


Bleed the life from me

by Finnlay, Nausi



Category: Marvel (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Abuser/Victim Relationship, Abusive Relationship, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Backstory, Canonical Child Abuse, Character Study, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Conditioning, Criminal Activities, Depression, Drugs, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Gaslighting, Grooming, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Master/Slave, Multi, Murder, Pedophilia, Period-Typical Racism, Physical Abuse, Physical Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prostitution, Psychological Torture, Repressed Memories, Repression, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Repression, Sexual Violence, Slurs, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-05-05 12:11:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14618259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finnlay/pseuds/Finnlay, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nausi/pseuds/Nausi
Summary: The world operates on one simple, universal truth:Everything comes with a price. Sometimes the currency is money. Sometimes it is blood. Other times it is your body, soul and mind.Daken is but a child when he learns to live by that concept. It’s carved into him by sharp claws and whispered lies. It becomes all that he believes in without a single doubt left in his mind. If he wants something, if he needs something, he will have to pay the price for it.The only other thing that he trusts is that life for him began in blood and that it will end in blood. The single question that is left is whether or not he will still have a soul left at the end of it all. Or if the noise in his head, the hands around his throat and the claws ripping into him have stolen everything that made him human.Additional warnings are in the notes above every chapter!Tags are open for change.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Implied/Referenced Emotional Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Self-harm, Implied/Referenced Pheromones, Implied/Referenced Sexual Themes, Murder, Abuse, Religious Themes, Period-Typical Racism, Adultery, Superstition
> 
>  **Referenced Comics:** Wolverine Origins #26
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> [Visit Finnlay's Tumblr](https://sniktice.tumblr.com/)  
> [Visit Nausi's Tumblr](https://nausiwindstrider.tumblr.com/)

**1954  
Japan, Miyagi Prefecture, Sendai**

Swirls of silvery gray broke the monotony of washed out blue in the sky above them. It had stopped raining only minutes ago and Akihiro could still practically taste the rain in his tongue. The color of the sky reminded him uncomfortably of his own eyes. Eyes that betrayed his heritage. Eyes that were passed on to him by a father who most likely had -

“Akihiro.”

His head turned and Akihiro blushed in embarrassment, “I am sorry, Father. I was daydreaming.” With a polite glance down he quickly made his move.

They were sitting under the rooftop outside and playing Go. Father was teaching him and Akihiro was eager to learn but his attention sometimes drifted away.

“Father … may I ask you a question?”

There was kindness in the man's eyes as he looked at his son. For the moment he did not make his move but nodded to his son. “Yes you may, son.”

“Why is there such a … disdain for people like me?” He looked up at his Father as he continued, “Ones of mixed heritage. Is it just the war or is there more?” What he really wanted to ask went deeper than this but Akihiro knew not to speak of the things the villagers said and did. Mother had been firm when she made him swear he would not tell Father. She said it would break Father’s heart and Akihiro did not want to be a source of pain for his Father.

“The war is only the latest excuse my child.” Akihira watched the emotions play across his son’s face. “Nihon has a long proud history. We are a small island nation protected more by the ocean and the kami, than our own force of arms. We have long feared and loved everything that is not Nippon. So many of the best things in life we have from or have learned from the Chinese. Ocha comes from China, we have the Buddha from them, and silks that make the hot summers bearable we have from them as well.” Akihira put out his hand and then made a fist, “Do you see my child? This is who we have been, a fist ready to defend and take, to have what is ours and also what is theirs. We are prideful and afraid.” He opened his hand and continued, “The American’s humbled us with their ships and their Commodore Perry near enough to a hundred years ago. From that moment there was a challenge between our people Akihiro. We rushed forward, grasping at things that were foreign, catching up to the rest of the world, abandoning much of what made us who we are, and do you know what happened to us my child?”

Akihiro shook his head, eyes wide and expression attentive. There was a never ending pool of wisdom and knowledge to be gained and it had always intrigued him to study. What was the point of existence if it was not gaining knowledge?

“Nagasaki and Hiroshima. The Atomic bombs, the ultimate tragedy of our nation.” The sadness that creased his face was deep at the thought. “The Americans sought not to humble us, but to teach us our place, and show us that we are an island nation and exist at all by the grace of their good will.” He looked down at the board and made a move, it was not the best move he could have made, and it would extend the game, but it was not a bad move either. Then he looked back at his son, “People who are afraid, whose hearts are hurt, who have not embraced the nembutsu, they look at you my child and they see the bombs. They see the hand of those who would humble us, who have shamed us. You must try to forgive them their weakness my child. They do not understand.”

“They … they look at me and they see ...” Akihiro looked down, “They see death. But I’ve never done harm to anyone, Father. I’m just a child.”

“You are my child.” Akihira leaned forward and reached out across the table to cup Akihiro’s face. Once the boy was looking at him he continued, “They are wrong, they are flawed beings, the same as you and I. We must look inside ourselves and find compassion for them. Suffering is part of life my child, it is a hard lesson and one I would not have you learn at such a young age, but I cannot control them. Still you are my child and I am proud of you Akihiro.”

Akihiro leaned into the touch right away, soaking it up and savoring the moment. Mother had stopped even allowing him to sit by her side and watch her work. Akihiro missed that comfort. “I understand. Thank you, Father.” _They hate me. They fear me. For things I have no control over … perhaps I should give them a better reason._

“You are most welcome my son.” As he leaned back he looked down at the game board. “It is your turn.”

* * *

**1955  
Japan, Miyagi Prefecture, Sendai**

The knee made painful contact with his stomach and Akihiro felt his own hit the ground as he doubled over in pain. There was a rush to it. A tingle. Almost as if it excited him to be caught in such a situation. It passed when he realized that Akihira, his Father, had come alarmed by the noise.

“What is happening here?”

“Father, do not be alarmed. These boys were ...” Akihiro hesitated and then settled on, “Teaching me. A lesson.”

It was clearly not what Akihiro was saying it was, but Akihira knew that these were all generally good boys. They were filled with fear and hatred though and were taking it out on his son. Still he would not let it pass so easily, “And what is the lesson?”

Standing up slowly he brushed his hands down his clothes and affected an uncaring expression. “The lesson they have taught me, Father ...” He glanced at the boys and felt a rush of excitement at their fearful expressions, “Is that the _fool_ rushes into a fight when he is outnumbered. The _wise man_ waits until his enemies are _alone_.”

It was wisdom of a sort, but those were the words of a duplicitous man was more interested in tearing things down than building them up. It was not the sort of person he wanted his son to grow into. “Get back to your tasks children.” He reached out and put a hand on Akihiro’s shoulder, “You will spend the day with me in quiet contemplation. We will abstain from dinner, and in the morning we will attempt to find some clarity.”

“Yes, Father.” Akihiro nodded, obedient and aware that his Father was not approving entirely of his new found wisdom. But Father was not always right. Sometimes Father was a fool.

“Compassion is more valuable than cunning or wit Akihiro.” His father’s voice was smooth, and the hand on his back was gentle. “When you grasp this you will have found true wisdom.”

Compassion. None of these people showed him any compassion. It was time to level the playing field. Akihiro was not entirely sure just yet on the how but oh, he was going to figure it out. “Yes, Father.”

“I know you do not believe me. It is likely my own failing, my own pride.” They came inside and moved through the house to the family shrine. “Perhaps someday you will be able to forgive me Akihiro.”

“I have nothing to forgive you, Father.” Akihiro reached for his Father’s hand and held it. He loved his Father. He adored him. Father was the only person that treated him with respect and care. There would never be something to forgive him because Father, even while a fool, could do no wrong.

“You are a good son Akihiro, your faults are my faults.” He put down a cushion for Akihiro’s knees and then moved to light incense in offering to the ancestors and the Buddha. “Kneel, close your eyes, and reflect on the days actions and how you could have avoided conflict, how you could have found more compassion. Do not speak, look inward.”

With a silent nod Akihiro settled on the cushion, closed his eyes and folded his hands. _Breath. Focus. Let Father believe I care for this._

“Breath and think, reflect.” The voice came from only a few feet away now. His father had knelt down facing him. “Become the clear still pound. Look into yourself.”

~~~

The only noise in the room was his own heavy breathing. Akihiro knelt there on the floor above the motionless body and just breathed. His heart was hammering inside his chest, feeling heavy and light at once. He had _watched_ it. Akihiro had wrapped his hands around the boys throat and _watched_ the light go out of these amber colored eyes. And his entire body, his very soul, felt on fire with that realization.

Akihiro had come at night, through the window, after everyone had gone to bed and the lights were out in the home. He had come to _scare_ Kojiro. It had never been about this. As he entered the other boys room though, he found him awake. Kojiro had been scared, as planned, but he was going to scream and Akihiro could not let him. If Father found out that he had broken into a home to scare someone -

_Then what will he say about murder?_

Pulling away slowly he leaned back, sitting now and just staring at the lifeless body. That had been a human being. A person. A soul. Someone with a father and a mother, and a younger sister. Akihiro had taken this soul from all of these people. And rationally, he knew that this was wrong. He knew. And yet it felt – it felt like he was alive for the first time since he began to understand what it meant when people called him _Daken._ Now they were right. He was a bastard. A bad person. He was _death_ and _pain._

_He can never know. No one can know._

“You brought this on yourself.” Standing up he readjusted his clothing meretriciously and then left the house as if he had done nothing more than deliver a message. It was what he had done, really. None of these children would ever dare treat him like that again.

~~~

Choices between masters and honor and family were at the core of every man’s life. What it meant to be a good servant did not always agree with what it meant to be a good buddhist, or a good father. Obeying the law sometimes meant betraying some other responsibility or trust. The scene he had been called upon to witness this morning had set him a moral quandary. Kojiro was dead. Clearly he had been killed, but the family had heard nothing. There were splotches on the boy’s throat but no signs of a struggle. If not for the scene he had witnessed not two days past Akihira would have thought they had a murderer lurking amongst them. 

_It is just my son, afraid and angry and unaware of the consequences of his actions. The blood of his sire runs thick in him like a poison. It must be gentled._

And so he was standing with his wife and his son at the funeral for Kojiro who had been killed by a bandit or by jealous spirits. The family was bewildered and terrified. If proper funds could be raised Akihira knew they would leave. It was perhaps for the best for nothing would move him to betray the bond and trust he had entered into. Akihiro was his son, nothing would ever change that. Still the look on his boy’s face betrayed thoughts which were not appropriate for their setting, which would raise suspicion. As the ceremony closed Akihira put a hand on his son’s shoulder and spoke softly, “Come Akihiro, to the temple. We must pray.”

There was no grief or remorse in those storm blue eyes. Akihira wondered at it, and at the strange mix of feelings that came over him. It was nothing he was not used to, and nothing he worried over. They left as a family though his wife went her separate way toward house. Even on a day like today there were tasks which were needful, things which had to be done. As they knelt in front of the Onaijin within the Hondo of the modest temple Akihiro spoke, “There is nothing more tragic than for a father to live beyond the life of a son.”

He placed a hand on his child’s shoulder to steady him. _I know what you have done and my love for you has not diminished. Your failings are my failings child._ “It was here that I prayed for your arrival. It is here, now, that I pray you never leave me. You are my son Akihiro. No words can ever make it not son.” The trembling of the boy beneath his fingers startled him. Akihira had meant to be comforting, and yet his boy was like a sakura, trembling in the wind as he stared off to the side of the altar. “What is it --? Why are you shaking?”

Akihiro shifted and bit his lip. What was he to say? Would Father be mad if he spoke of what made him feel uncomfortable? “The _dragon_ Father.” He looked up, “It frightens me.” It did. These soulless eyes. The golden shine. Sharp teeth and claws. And the size of it – Akihiro was smaller than the statue. There was something wrong and eerie about this thing.

With a gentle touch Akihira turned to his son and tilted the boy’s face to his own before he spoke, “It is not the _Dragon_ that you fear, Akihiro. It is the power that it represents. _This_ is the magic of symbols.”

Power. Akihiro blinked and glanced at the statue for a moment before asking, “Is the dragon the **most** powerful, Father?”

“Yes Akihiro, our family believes them to be. The most powerful. Guardians and elementals of water. There is nothing to fear from _Kinryū_ save that which is within yourself.” Akihira’s hand fell away from his son as they both gazed upon the fearsome face. “The _Kinryū_ shows us what is in our own hearts. Staring into its eyes is staring into your own soul.”

_Then there is no soul inside of me. I see nothing but emptiness in its eyes._ “Is it feared, Father? The dragon? If it holds such power …”

“Power is many things. Real power does not come from fear.” Akihira considered his words carefully, “Fear is born of attachments it is part of what keeps us tied to the path of suffering that we all must walk. To be free of attachments is to become enlightened, the Buddha teaches us this. The Buddha also teaches us moderation. There are things to fear, only the foolish are completely free of fear Akihiro. That is the paradox, it is why we still look to the old ways and the _Kinryū_ even as we embrace the new ways the Buddha teaches. There is power in fear and there is fear in power.”

“Yes, Father, I understand.” Akihiro looked back at the statue and wondered what it was like – to be feared but in such a way that held power. It intrigued him. The villagers, they saw in him death and the foreign. They feared him but he was a child to them as well. So what they feared in him was not enough to make them act respectfully. What would it take to add that layer? Akihiro wondered.

~~~

It was late. Natsumi had waited patiently for her husband and Akihiro to return but she was relieved when it was only Akihira who stepped into the room. She greeted her husband with a warm smile before speaking, “Please, husband, forgive me for what I am about to say …” Natsumi touched a hand to her heart, “But I have no love in my heart for Akihiro.”

This put a frown on his face right away. Akihiro was making an offering in the family shrine, Akihira hoped that this would help sooth the boy’s mind. Now his own, already taxed and tired mind was having to deal with this new revelation. He looked at his wife in disbelief, “How can you say this? He has brought us such happiness!”

“Yes.” She nodded, “But husband, - do you feel your emotions are still your own? Our happiness comes only when _he_ is happy. Have you not noticed that when he is angry, we feel that as well? The boy feels a certain way and we will be affected, feeling _his_ emotions just as strongly as he does.”

Akihira shook his head. This was something that he had felt but to him it was nothing unnatural. It was the bond between father and son, a sacred gift. Akihiro was his child, they were linked together by the will of the gods and ancestors. The joys, sorrows, and angers of his son were his, and all the boy’s failings were his as well. If he was a good son then Akihira was a good father. This was an unquestionable fact in his mind, one which his wife, who he loved, was questioning. So he shook his head and refused to speak. 

“The boy is cursed, and we have brought this curse into our house!” Natsumi stood and approached her husband with a bitter and sad expression, “The child that was given to us … it is no child, husband. We found an infant full of promise but it was a lie … the boy is no child. He is a _fox spirit_ and we have given it the chance to rob us of our hope and fortune.”

“Enough!” Akihira’s voice was not loud but it was firm. He put an end to his wife’s ranting. It hurt his heart to even consider her words. “It has been only a few years Natsumi. You still grieve for the children of your body that never were. Given time and meditation, love for the boy will grow inside you -”

“No, husband. It will not.” She shook her head and took his hands, guiding them past her breasts to her stomach, eyes heavy lidded and cheeks colored, “But there is something else that _does_ grow inside me.” _I had to betray you, husband, for this to be but it will finally bring peace to us._

Though he was still cross with his wife for the things she had said about their son he embraced her then, glad in his heart. _This will bring us peace. Akihiro will have a sibling. He will have someone to nurture and to care for in a way that mirrors my feelings for him. Natsumi will see Akihiro’s devotion and love him for it and then love him for himself. There will be peace in my house. The gods have blessed us, Buddha holds us in his hand. I will not fail you my son._

~~~

Silently Akihiro moved away from his listening spot as Mother and Father began to kiss and undress. He had no interest in witnessing their celebration. As he closed the door to his room he felt a wave of nausea and fear wash over him. _I will be replaced. I’ve never been more than a placeholder to Mother. She doesn’t love me but she will love this new child. They will throw me away … just like my real parents._ His eyes narrowed and into the silence of the room he whispered, “I will not let them.”

* * *

**1956  
Japan, Miyagi Prefecture, Sendai**

So small. Fragile. Vulnerable.

Akihiro stood next to the crib and looked down on his little brother. Junichiro. _Adoptive brother_ , he reminded himself in his thoughts as he watched the boy sleep. The only source of light in the room was the light of the full moon shining in from the window but Akihiro had found that these days his eyes seemed to adjust more readily to the dark. All of his senses seemed keener, sharper. It was one of many things he had chosen to never speak of to anyone.

The infant’s chest rose and fell with each breath. Tiny hands curled and uncurled, legs twitching beneath the light cover. This was not the first baby that Akihiro had ever seen, not by far, and yet he felt differently watching Junichiro than he had ever felt seeing any other newborn.

This child was everything that his mother wanted. Junichiro was of her own blood. He was innocent and full of promise. A new life filled with endless possibility. Of pure heritage, born in wedlock. This infant was not like him. Nothing like him. Nothing like him at all.

Akihiro was no fool. He understood what people said about him, what their hushed whispers and stolen glances meant. The name they used for him when his Father was nowhere to be seen. The sharp insults, the little lies and the rumors. Some true, others not. Akihiro knew what he was and he had learned to understand why his heritage was a curse that stole opportunity from him based on nothing but fear and deep rooted disdain for anything, everything, different.

He reached out with one hand, stroked fingertips over one rosy, plumb cheek. Junichiro’s skin was as pale and unblemished as ivory, his hair raven and his eyes colored the shade of honey. Junichiro was everything that he was not.

Akihiro’s own coloring looked foreign against the ivory. He had heard people describe the color of his skin as _muddy_ and _dirty_. Once, as a younger child, he had scrubbed himself raw to the point of breaking skin in hopes of washing the color away. He remembered his mother’s horrified expression and his father’s questions about it. Akihiro had not answered them, stubbornly choosing to remain silent. 

Pulling his hand back he leaned heavily on the crib and tried to feel _anything_ for this infant. Anything other than anger. Akihiro wanted to **love** his brother, wanted to be good to him and be there as Junichiro grew up. He wanted to teach him, play with him, explain the world and maybe sometimes be teasing and a little mean – like he had seen other siblings be with each other. He wanted it. He wanted to be _normal_. But Akihiro knew he was not like everyone else and not just because his skin was darker and his eyes were blue like the sky after a storm. He was different because he did not feel like others did.

Most of his life Akihiro felt nothing. A state of indifference and disconnect from the world. It was those times that he buried his nose inside a book and dreamed of other worlds, places, people and experiences. And when he did feel things it was more often than not anger and frustration. At all the things he didn’t have and all the questions left unanswered.

Why had his parents abandoned him? Who were they? Why had they not wanted him? Were they alive? And if they were, why couldn’t they at least have left a note with him when they dropped him off at the residence of his adoptive family.

Akihiro knew the rumors about that too. About how his father must have been an American soldier. What he might have done to his mother and how that would have made abandoning him the only option. Sometimes Akihiro dreamed of it. Of a young woman with hair as black as charcoal and skin like ivory. Of the man with cruel blue eyes and rough, big hands holding her down as she cried and struggled. These dreams always woke him up in the middle of the night with a startle.

If there was even a sliver of truth to that story than he hoped with all of his heart that his mother was happy now. Married to someone who treated her with all the respect and love she deserved. Maybe she even had another child now, one that she had wanted. One with a man that she loved. Akihiro did not believe in many things but he liked to believe that this to be true. And he liked to believe that in turn, his biological father was burning in hell for dishonoring a woman in such a way.

The infant shifted in his sleep and Akihiro snapped out of his thoughts. This was his brother. Small, fragile and vulnerable. It would have been so easy to just wrap his hands around that delicate throat and squeeze until the life left that little body. Easier than when Akihiro had done the same with the boy months ago. His hands hovered over the sleeping child but with the next little shift of his brother, he drew away again.

No. Not like this. Not now.

His biological mother had not wanted him. His adoptive mother could not love him. Both of them were right. He was not worthy of the love of a mother. This child was. Akihiro wanted for the child better than he wanted for himself. Perhaps ...

Not tonight. Not in this way.

Stroking one rosy cheek once more he pulled away from the crib and returned to his own room.

Not tonight. But soon. Somehow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Punishment, Implied/Referenced Grooming, Accidental Murder, Heavy Self-harm, Dissociation, Identity Issues

**1956  
Japan, Miyagi Prefecture, Sendai**

Time was fluid, like a river. Men said that. It was one of the few things they uttered which held a shadow of wisdom. With their short lives and their limited minds they could not grasp the grand design. They did not know with what magnification scope they wrestled in the dark. They were blind and deaf to the true meaning. It was pitiful, but they were useful, and so they were to be suffered. James Howlett was different. He was an incredible specimen. A commingling and joining the like of which had not been seen in centuries. His was a line which needed to be preserved and purified. This moment represented the next step in that process. It was a slow moving thing built of lust and poetry. It had been no easy task to find a woman suitable for his uses. No delicate flower would do, such a vessel would not be able to survive James Howlett’s passions, nor bare his spawn. Still the female would have to be lovely, would have to be graceful, and clever with a steel frame beneath. Nothing less would do. Having found that perfect vessel the meeting was arranged, the match made, the child conceived. James Howlett acted as he had been expected to act, had been lustfully in love, passionately devoted, and animalistic when the script called for it. She had bore it all as effortlessly as a canvas accepted paint. It was almost a shame to have killed her. Sometimes he wondered if that was his mistake. If the female had lived they could have produced more than one of these incredible beings, but the risk was too great. A mother would have ruined it all.

It was clear that the child felt that way. The female who had been his mother had proven herself to be a monster. It had not always been so but Romulus had seen that the correct people had said the wrong things at the best times to fuel her suspicion, her superstition, her pride, and her ego. Such events had been easy to arrange, a few bribes, a death, a miscarriage, it had all been easy enough. Even the affair needed to conceive the replacement, it had all been quite easy. These people were easy to manipulate, all people were, but insular xenophobic communities gave him more tools. There was a lever on every thing, every thought, and all he need do to activate it was tickle someone’s desire to carry on through their progeny, their fear of the other, their fear of mortality itself, their self loathing, their jealousy. It was like playing music, and he was a master of each and every instrument, he kept the time, he lead the orchestra, he wrote the piece. Now here they were at the end of the overture, standing on the precipice of the first act. The story was about to begin.

“I renounce you as my son. No longer will you have the name Akihiro.” The male was saying. It was a beautifully delivered line. The shock it sent through his target was visible. It did not matter that the child called back, that he declared it had never been his name to begin with. Those were angry words from a hurt child that had only a moment ago called this male ‘father’. 

**“MURDERER!”**

The female came running, a rifle complete with bayonet in her hands. It was too perfect. She was mad with rage, a she bitch driven past the realm of sanity. It was beautiful to watch her fall on the child and then fall to the ground. The black claws burst from the child’s hands, taking her in the throat and chest. Instinct, the need to survive, it had taken over completely. 

There was something about being weak and then a gunshot. It was done. The child had witnessed the death of everything he knew, he was without direction, home, or identity. In the blink of an eye it had all been taken from him, and seemingly at his own hand. For was it not the child who had killed the infant?

“Who -” The child turned, eyes wild with sorrow and fear, “Is someone watching?” It was a beautiful thing to witness, the awareness creeping into the boy as his senses were fully free for the first time. “Who is there?”

“Look deep in the shadows, there you will find me.” A smile played on his lips as Romulus stepped out of the shadows enough to be seen but using the light and the weather to be nearly impossible to recognize as human. The expression on the child’s face spoke of the effect it had and it was delightful. Romulus savored this moment, one he had been made to wait on for eleven years.

“Who … who are you?”

“I am what you will become.”

* * *

**1956  
Japan, Undisclosed Location**

****

_**Look deep into the shadows, and there you will find me. I am what you will become.** _

**__** _-SNIKT!-_

The sound seemed to echo in the silence of the room. For the length of a heartbeat, Akihiro almost expected someone to hear and come into the small room he had been given. No one came. There was only silence again. Silence and the flickering shine of the candles flame.

The man had taken him away from Sendai. They had driven for hours and Akihiro was not sure where they had gone or why they were wherever here was. All he knew was that he had no choice but to take the offer. No one would help an orphan, much less one of mixed heritage. Romulus, that was the name the man gave him, he was the only chance to survive.

All because of these. Drawing in a deep breath, he held his hand up and studied _them_. The lightly curved, black colored claws that protruded from the skin above his knuckles and the spot beneath his pulse point. They seemed to be a part of him, something that belonged. Akihiro -

“ _I renounce you as my son. No longer shall you have the name Akihiro.”_

The words, nearly drowned out by the noise of thunder and heavy rain, sounded in his head and he gritted his teeth against the sickening taste of bile on the back of his tongue. He was not going to throw up. He was not weak. And his name was Daken. Not Akihiro. He was **Daken.**

And he had claws. Like an animal. There was no denying what he was anymore. His senses were keener than they had any right to be, Daken had known this for quite a while. The things he could smell and hear were invisible for other people. He was different. Closer to a dog than a human. The name they had given him fit and he would wear it as the reminder of what had happened. Of what he had done.

The sight of his mother, covered in blood, falling onto the muddy ground was burned into his memory. So was the sound and the scent of his father shooting himself, declaring that he was too weak to kill Daken for what he had done to Natsumi. A human would not have done such a thing. Daken could not imagine it.

He was an animal but why? Where did these claws come from? Why did he have them? How had he not known they were there for eleven years of his life? And what were they even made of?

Questions that Daken was not sure whom to ask. But one of them he might be able to answer himself. With a frown he traced the fingertips of his other hand over the surface of the black claws. They were painfully sharp and drew blood effortlessly. Daken drew back and stared at the cut - no. It healed, leaving behind nothing but flawless, smooth skin. As if nothing had ever happened.

That was the other thing that Daken had to learn today; He was incapable being hurt permanently. His mother - no, the woman that had pretended to be his mother - she had run him through with a bayonet and he had just walked away from it. There was no wound, no scar. Nothing.

It left him to wonder. How far did this ability go? Could he die? Not over an injury it seemed. What if he broke a limb? Would it heal? Could he cut off his hand and have it grow back? What about an injury to his brain? His spine, his lungs, his heart -

There they were once more; the million questions that wanted answers and would never get them. It always came down to him being left with questions and no answers.

With a simple flex of his left hand he popped the claws there as well and then withdrew all of them at once. He could control them. Curious now, Daken tried to just pop one of them and after a few painful tries he figured out how to do that. This was just like learning any other skill he had ever been taught. They were a part of him and he had control over them. If he had known they were there, perhaps Natsumi would not have died today. Perhaps Akihira wouldn’t have died either. Daken could only speculate.

For a few minutes he just sat there, contemplating what to do now before he stood up. The simple garments were shed, folded neatly and set aside before he took his spot on the floor once more. Daken had questions and he needed answers. If there was no one to ask, and he was not going to try asking that _man_. He had to find the answers in a different manner.

The first cut parted his skin and Daken bit his lip hard to keep himself from making a sound. Blood dripped onto the floor and his breathing hitched. It hurt. It hurt like nothing else ever had. Daken watched as the wound closed. Skin knitting itself back together flawlessly.

It was insane. Unreal. Impossible. **It was not human.**

**__** _I am not human._

“ _ **I am what you will become.”**_

Daken brought the claw back to his skin and tried to push the image of that _man_ out of his mind. Maybe he was not human. Maybe he was some sort of … demon. But he was not like that man. The man, Romulus, he made the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight and caused Daken’s stomach to twist and knot. Looking at Romulus was like looking at the sun but instead of light hurting his eyes, darkness seemed to devour him. He was **not** like Romulus.

Or was he?

The scent of blood was thick and heavy in the air and yet Daken could not stop. The first cut hurt. The second cut felt like relief. Each cut following was a reminder that he was still alive. That despite everything he had experienced today, despite the possibility that he was not even human – he _was_ alive. On the inside Daken felt nothing, there was a big black hole, but his body still experienced pain.

Daken gasped and tried to forget the sight of his little baby brother looking up at him with these big eyes. Tried to forget how his hands had shaken as he wrapped them around that vulnerable throat. Tried to forget leaving the vulnerable infant behind on the steps of another families house instead. Like he had been left. Hoping, begging, that a pure Japanese baby would be treated better than he had been.

Natsumi’s anger had been so thick he could taste it on the tip of his tongue. Desperation, loss, anger, fear. And then burning bright hatred. For him. She had been disgusted by him and he had been thankful for it because at least that emotion was real. She had finally felt _something_ for him. It did not matter what emotion it was, as long as it was real.

But then - Daken shook his head and angrily dug deeper into his own flesh, cutting down to the bone through layers of skin, muscle and nerves.

His father. The only person that had ever seemed to truly love him. He had turned on him. Akihira had turned on him. Had taken away his name. And she had tried to take his life but Daken took hers instead. He took it without meaning to and yet it seemed like the ultimate irony – the only act between them that had ever been real.

Her blood was on his hands. It would never wash away. And the wound inside of him, the hole that seemed to weep and bleed, it wouldn’t heal like the wounds on the outside did.

“ _ **I am what you will become.”**_

It had been pure self preservation. Everything that had happened was his natural instinct to survive. Every animal, even every human, had that instinct. It hadn’t been his fault.

Or had it been?

Daken lied down with a gasp and closed his eyes. There was blood painting the floor red but he didn’t care. Exhaustion had caught up with him finally and he was not sure he would find any rest if he did not take advantage of that.

“ _ **I am what you will become.”**_

The thought circled in his mind, replaying like a broken record and Daken fell asleep with something resembling a smile on his lips. If becoming like that man meant that the pain would stop, then Daken was fine with it.

_I will become what you are._

* * *

**1956**  
Central Africa, The Republic of Congo  
Cuvette-Ouest province, Etoumbi

War was such a pointless thing.

Daken sat on the floor in the small hut and quietly ate his lunch as shots sounded in the distance. After about three months in Japan, Romulus had taken him on a plane and they left home behind. Now they were in Africa. A strange, damnedly hot continent that Daken had only ever read of in books before. Reality was far less pleasant than the written word.

His senses allowed him to pick up on the screams outside, the scent of blood and gunpowder. There were children’s voices mixed in with those of grown men and women. The mingled in scent of bile, urine and excrement threatened to ruin his appetite but Daken had learned quickly not to skip meals. He needed the energy to do as Master asked.

Romulus had taken him to this strange country eight weeks ago and most things had stopped affecting him within two. Daken learned to adapt to the new scents, the new environment, to please his Master because he knew that if he didn’t, there were consequences.

Everything in the world had a price. Not all debts were paid with money however. Some were paid with blood. Some, he had to witness, were paid with bodies. Blood and bodies seemed to pay better than money did even - at least in this country it seemed that way.

Daken was not entirely sure where they were but had been told by the locals that this was Central Africa and that they were in the Republic of Congo. What that meant, Daken had no idea but he did know that there seemed to be a war going on. His French, the language they spoke here for some reason, wasn’t that good yet but he was learning fast and he was using what little he already knew to improve further.

Master seemed pleased with that. Daken figured that keeping Romulus in that state was the best he could do. The skill that he had learned first from Romulus was to take pain and survive it. There was a difference between living and surviving. His strange healing ability kept him alive but if he broke on the inside, there was no healing that. The wounds on the inside didn’t heal.

Most days now he just stayed quiet and observed. It was clear that while he was _special,_ Master did not exactly care for him any more than his adoptive mother had. And yet, at very odd times Romulus would do things that left Daken wondering if he was misinterpreting the other actions, it was confusing and disturbing in ways that he had no words for.

The same hand that brought the hard leather of a belt down onto his back would ruffle his hair. The voice that told him he was _bad_ would turn warmer and tell him that he was making Master proud.

Daken could learn a language. He could learn how to fight. How to use a gun. How to kill. These were all just skills that were acquired with persistence. But he had no idea where to get the knowledge on whether or not he was understanding Master’s intentions and actions the right way. There was such a disconnect between the two sides he had seen that Daken could barely make himself believe that it was the same person doing these things.

It was as if there were two of Romulus. One who wanted what was best for him, who praised him and cared for him. And one who only saw the bad, one that brought pain and fear. Daken could never tell when he was faced with which and it made him careful and nervous.

Romulus was just a man. Daken tried to tell himself that again and again but no matter how much he repeated it, his mind refused to accept it as the truth. Long hair, overgrown teeth, sharp claw like nails and a stature so wide and large that he seemed to tower over everyone. Daken wanted to believe Master was just a man but he wasn’t. He was different.

He was – Master was _**the dragon**_. That large golden statue back in Japan. The one that had frightened and fascinated him at the same time. Father had called it a symbol of power. Master was powerful. And frightening. And fascinating. All at once in this conflicting and terrible twist of emotions.

But the dragon had not been real. It had not been able to move. It could not hurt him. Master could. Master did. And there was no one to turn to. No one he could tell. No one who would care.

Then again, Daken was not sure he had ever had someone who cared. Who would have listened. His Father had always been oblivious to the things the other children did to him. The damage they inflicted to his emotions and his understanding of the world. And at the end - even Akihira had turned on him.

There was no one to rely on. No one to trust. He was alone. Alone in a country he did not know, surrounded by people who looked completely foreign to him, and stuck with only a single person to turn to at all.

Romulus. _**Master.**_

Daken stood up after finishing his meal and as he cleaned the plate and washed the other dishes, he thought to himself that he was going to learn faster. If he ever wanted to leave then he needed to be able to care for himself and in this world that required skills he did not yet possess.

He would learn. He would grown. And he would try not to break in the process.

~~~~~

It was an easy thing, to spy on the child. Romulus stood very still in the shadows and watched in the window. This country was ripe with all the things he most needed, and it was alien to the child. Thus they had come here, to the heart of the beginning. Man was a conceited creature, and this war was proof of that. So much pain, fear, and suffering, for what? Money? None of them perceived what it was that they were truly after, and in many cases there was no teaching them. The child was different. It made him valuable and dangerous. Romulus watched with a critical eye. He was aware that the only 

physical thing the boy had brought from Japan aside from the clothes on his back was a book of poems, the _Shin Kokin Wakashu._ It spoke to a sophistication in the young mind that was rare. There was no question of the child’s precocious nature. The question on Romulus’ mind was if the child was ready for the next step. There was a hunger within him, one that had existed since before the age of Man. When the world was young Romulus had been foolish and indulge that huger. Now he had the wisdom of Eons. 

_No, the time is not yet ripe_ , With that question answered he turned away to oversee the slaughter. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canada is Daken’s least favorite place so far but when Romulus comes to visit this time, the man’s actions forever burn it into the young boys mind that Canada equals pain. Meanwhile a certain redhead is missing her favorite person so she comes for a bit of one on one time with her big brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:**  
>  **Part One:** Psychological Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Grooming, Child Abuse, Pedophilia, Inexplicit Rape  
>  **Part Two:** Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Sibling Abuse, Implied/Referenced Abusive Dynamics  
>  **Part Three:** Rape Aftermath, Self-loathing, Victim blaming, Resignation, Vomit, Suicidal Thoughts

**1957  
Western Canada**

A year was a short time by some standards. It was a long time by others. Romulus looked at the cabin he had placed his little pet in and thought to himself that a year was a very long time to wait when the object of one’s fixation was dangling before you. His little pet was a glorious mingling of bloodlines. James Howlett was the nexus point, was that which they had waited for, but the son was no less fascinating. There were ways in which the son was more useful even. His life had been controlled since before conception, everything unfolding as Romulus wished. James Howlett had been discovered too late.

The warm air of the cabin washed over him. He found the child reading. It was not at all uncommon. Whenever there was a bit of quiet the child read. “Daken.”

_Master._ Daken felt his heart skip a beat and he would have not been able to explain if it was fear or excitement that caused the reaction. Maybe it was both. Maybe it was far more complex and intricate than he had words for. “Welcome, Master.” Daken stood up, bowed his head and then went straight for the fireplace. Romulus preferred it warmer than him and Daken knew to ensure that the fire burned hotter and brighter when Master visited with him.

It had been such a peaceful day, quiet and pleasant. Daken had spent some time just watching the snowfall and thinking about all the things he missed. The regrets he had collected in just a year of being with Master. Daken had not known the man would visit today. Master had not been around much since they left Africa and moved to Canada.

Here he was being trained by a man whose temper was so unpredictable and violently aggressive that Daken had to quickly learn to expect the absolute worst at all times. Cyber. That man _frightened_ him. Daken was painfully aware that he was not meant to be afraid of anything but that was impossible. There were things that scared him, things he feared and avoided. Above all the man that had given him this book in his hands but also Cyber and the thought of being left behind. He was being trained by a man who had taught him what fear really meant and how to hide that emotion beneath an impassive mask of numbness.

“May I, Master?” Daken waited until Romulus settled on the couch to come over and serve the deep red wine that his Master preferred. With the bottle and the glass set on the table, he waited to be allowed to clean Master’s boots for him. They were covered in snow which was now melting in the heat of the room.

“You may.” It was still evident in the boy, how service nipped at his pride. The child had been raised with privilege. Yes he had been shunned and abused, but there were still privileges that had been afforded him. The child was seeing that now.

Without a word Daken knelt down and cleaned the boots, careful to wipe away the small puddles of water on the floor as well. Serving was strange. Daken loathed it and yet there was an odd comfort to it as well. This he knew how to do, unlike some of the other things Master demanded. Although Daken had to discover that he learned fast even when it came to fighting and – killing. Taking a life. It still turned his stomach though and he knew that Master would mention what he had _not_ done.

“Good, you have a neat hand.” Romulus’ voice was smooth and warm. He raised the glass to his lips and savored the crisp flavors.

“Thank you, Master.” Daken stood up and put the towel away before washing his hands. Master was watching him, he could feel the eyes following his every movement. They felt heavy as he settled back down on his knees. After a moment of quiet he asked, nervously, “What brings you here today, Master?”

“Cyber informed me that you have been giving him a hard time, boy.”

Daken felt his stomach twist and turn, fear setting in. Despite knowing that this was coming, it still made him worried for what was to come. He hid the emotion as best as he could while answering, “I’m sorry, Master. I didn’t mean to …”

“Sorry? You are sorry?” There was a gentleness in the child that was frustratingly difficult to stamp out. Romulus shifted on the couch, “Why did you do it if you are sorry?”

“He wanted me to _kill_ it.” Daken looked down and then gritted his teeth, “The dog. He wanted me to kill the dog and I didn’t want to do it. There was no reason to.”

“You were commanded to do it boy. What more reason do you need than that?” Romulus arched a brow.

“Pointless slaughter of any living being is … stupid.” Daken looked up then and met these steel colored eyes, “I refused because it was a stupid order.”

“You are thinking for yourself.” The bulk of Romulus’ large form shifted again and he regarded the boy critically. “With a creature such as Cyber that is permissible. If I told you to kill the dog I expect you to do as I command without question.” He kept the boy there, kneeling and fixed by his gaze, “Do you understand me boy?”

“Yes, Master. I will not disobey you.” Daken said it without hesitation. To disobey Master would be to ask for punishment and he was not interested in such a thing.

“I do not believe you.” Romulus finished the glass and waited for it to be filled again before he continued to speak. “You are still too open with your feelings. It is easy to scent when you are frightened, when you are angry, and when you are lying.”

“I’m so-” Daken stopped himself and then thought better of it, “Yes Master. I will learn.”

“Good.” The second glass of wine was drank quickly. Romulus considered the situation for a moment and then motioned to Daken. “Come here boy. Sit beside me.”

Daken obeyed without hesitation. He knew he was walking a thin line between reward and punishment at all times. He wished he could trade reward for simply never having to fear punishment.

“There is a price to pay for everything in life boy. For the things you do, the things you do not do, and the things which are done on your behalf.” Romulus ran the back of his knuckles against Daken’s cheek. “Have you reckoned what the cost for displeasing Cyber is?”

The touch was warm and gentle. Daken couldn’t stop himself from leaning into it. He was starved for affection and while he had never gotten much of it, Akihira would stroke his hair and smile at him quite a bit. Even that was missing now. “No, Master.”

“Before you act you must ask yourself what the cost will be. You did not kill the dog. You set it free. There is a price. You disobeyed. There is a price. You displeased Cyber, who is my minion. There is a price. Everything in life, even each breath you take, all of this comes at a price boy. You must think on this, and decide what you are willing to pay before you act.”

“Yes Master.” He nodded and then swallowed, feeling fear rise inside him again. This was going to hurt. “What is the price for this, Master?”

“Normally the price would be quite high. You have no money, no standing. You have your body and your mind, and I would see that you paid dearly.” Romulus pushed his sharp nails through the child’s hair, “You are learning a very important lesson, and so this time I will tell Cyber he must abide.”

“How does someone pay with their body?” There was confusion in these stormy blue eyes and Daken wasn’t sure what was going on but he had a bad feeling. The men in the camp, the adult ones, they sometimes were visited by woman who dressed strange and when they came, everyone started to smell like excitement and arousal. Daken had a hunch that what they did might just be how one used their body as payment.

“Physical labor. Labor can take many forms. Digging a trench, fighting in a war, or giving pleasure.” One finger traced the boy’s lower lip.

Every instinct in him screamed to run. Daken felt his breath quicken and he went stiff, shoulders drawing in. “Pleasure Master?”

“Did you ever observe those two peasants who raised you touching each other?” The finger continued to draw lines and shapes over Daken’s face.

It changed his expression drastically and Daken stopped leaning into the touch. He had. It had been … _**wrong.**_ He watched for maybe two minutes, captivated by the strangeness of the act, and then crawled back into bed, trying to ignore the noises and the smell. “Yes Master.”

Romulus watched the boy closely. “Did they not seem to enjoy themselves?”

“I’m sure that they enjoyed themselves, Master. They made sounds indicating great pleasure.”

“She paid for her place by his side with her body. She yielded to him and offered her womb as home to his seed. This is the way of men and women.”

“It smelled bad and she seemed in pain. Why would a husband ask that of his wife?” That was something that had bothered Daken ever since.

“A proper man has desires and needs. It is natural for a woman to bend to those desires. It fulfills her.” Romulus pulled Daken into his lap. “You did not enjoy the scent of their rutting? Did it turn your stomach to think that Akihira was showing kindness and affection to someone other than yourself?”

“I don’t – no! That is not … children and parents do not do … that.” At least Daken was pretty confident they didn’t.

“If Akihira had desired it you would not have gone to his bed willingly to repay him for feeding, clothing, housing, and teaching you?” Romulus watched and savored the thoughts he could see playing out on the child’s face. The time was right. The boy was primed and ready to learn.

“I’m a boy. I do not have a womb, Master. I would be of no use to another man.” The thoughts were disturbing and conflicting. Daken imagined being held and touched like Natsumi and it made him feel weird things. He was hot all over and his stomach was a twisted mess.

“You cannot bear children but you can provide in other ways. You will find that people will be willing to do things they would normally never do, or would charge great sums of money for, if you offer them your body. Especially a beauty such as you will grow into.” Romulus began to undress the boy, casually, as if it were absolutely normal.

“M-master … I - …” _He will do to me what father did to her. I don't want it._ “Please ... no.”

“Do you want to please me boy?” Romulus arched a brow and regarded the child with calculated annoyance.

“Not like _that!”_ Daken wanted to flinch away and run. It would have been impossible to explain why he wasn't. It was almost as if a part of him knew that would make things worse.

“You are full of fear little one.” It was the special name Romulus used when he wanted to be especially manipulative. To the child it seemed as tenderness. “You do not think so now, but you will learn that this is mercy and kindness on my part. I am giving you a pearl of great value.”

Daken looked up into these frightening steel colored eyes and swallowed. _There's no getting away is there? This is just another thing I'll learn to deal with._ The stiffness left and he just sat there waiting for more.

Romulus pulled the child’s pants off and smiled. “Better.” Sharp nails moved over the delicate skin with terrible purpose. “You are ungrateful. All that I do is for you. Yet here you are, sullen and petulant before me.”

The feeling of cool air on his bare body made Daken shiver and he realized that the fire was no longer burning hot enough. Normally he would have taken care of that but obviously that was of no concern at this moment. Instead he just sat there and stubbornly said nothing.

“So prideful.” Romulus moved quickly. If not for the pain and the little lines of blood running down that fine cheek the child might not even believe that it had happened at all. “There is an art to this. You will learn. You will learn to be grateful.”

Daken barely flinched. It hurt a little but that was nothing. Master had made sure he could take pain. His eyes stayed full of angry, prideful defiance.

“As you will it. You will find that your cooperation is not necessary.” With that having been said Romulus flipped Daken over and held him face down over the table by the back of his neck. There were sounds as he moved, clothing rustling and moving against itself. Then the course sounds of him pulling saliva into his mouth. The spit landed just above the cleft of Daken’s ass and seeped down between his cheeks.

His heart skipped a beat and Daken felt an itch in his hands that had become familiar. Instinct was telling him to fight - to draw his claws and _fight_. As much as he wanted to listen, he didn’t. Master was stronger than him, far stronger. There was no chance that he would win. All Daken could do was lie there and feel the panic set in as something wet dripped between his cheeks. _He is going to – oh God ..._

“I could have been gentle.” With those words Romulus held on tighter and pushed his hips forward.

The scream that passed his lips would be heard outside the cabin but Daken knew no one would come running to save him. As his hands grabbed uselessly at the wood of the table, his claws broke through skin and he thought for one delirious second that he just needed to turn a bit and slice Romulus throat open and it would end. But it wouldn’t. Romulus healed. Just like him. There was no escape.

~~~

It was enough, for the moment. After withdrawing he sniffed the air and rolled his eyes. “Filthy little creature. Stoke the fire and clean up after this mess you’ve made.”

Daken slid down onto the floor and just panted for air. His body ached and he felt … _dirty_. After just a few seconds he pushed himself to move and obey. Anything. He would do _**anything** –_ as long as that meant Master would never do this to him again.

There was a large bed in the back of the cabin. Daken was never allowed to sleep there. Romulus used it from time to time. Now he disrobed and climbed into the bed. His eyes followed the boy as he did everything he was told. The room grew hot, and the fire was carefully set up to stay hot for hours. Then the broken glass and wine was cleaned from the floor. Though there was dried cum and blood on the boy there was no other sign of what had transpired on his smooth skin. It pleased Romulus greatly. His cock ached between his thighs, but he would not take the boy again just yet. The pacing of this thing was important. “Come here boy.”

Blue eyes looked at Romulus and Daken felt something break inside him. It was going to happen again. No matter what he did, it would happen again. With a feeling of resignation he crawled into the bed and let these huge hands draw him close. _This is just one more thing. It’s nothing. I’ll survive._

* * *

Even in full afternoon brilliance the sun gave little warmth. The fire roared as the snow fell as silently as little cat paws outside. It was a lovely sight. One that he enjoyed from the comfort of his own private cabin. The building was larger than the little one room allowance he had gifted to Daken. This had a proper bathroom, a bedroom, and a living space, all seperate from one another. Romulus was seated at his desk, managing correspondence as he enjoyed the scene out of his window. Events were ever moving and Romulus kept ahead of them, always.

The sound of the door opening without a knock would alert Romulus to her presence if he had not picked up her scent yet. Remus stepped into the cabin and made a displeased sound as she shed her heavy coat. Once free of the furry garment she came into the living space and laid her red eyes on the pleasing form of her brother. “You always pick the least pleasant locations to be at when I want to see you, brother.”

“Remain in your place and you would find that I could be drawn to far more ‘pleasant’ locations.” He did not look up at her. She was lovely, but he knew that well. Romulus did not need to look at his sister to be warmed by her, and he knew better than to feed her ego. 

“Rom.” She whined softly and settled herself in his lap, arms around that strong neck. “Don’t be so grumpy with me. I came all the way out here for you and your new pet.”

“I told you not to come.” He set his pen down and scooted back from the desk so that there was room for her. “You are not needed here, nor desired. The boy is too young for your foolishness.”

“I want to see him.” She pouted at her older brother and leaned in close, “But more so … I’ve been missing you. You haven’t visited in a while, brother.”

“The world moves and there is much to see to. Though you are a most pleasant companion my sister you are a distraction.” He cupped her face in his hand and regarded her plainly, “If you would focus and obey there is much we could accomplish.”

“I’m not one of your pets. I do not simply _obey_.” They often clashed because she refused to defer to him. Remus was just as capable as her dear brother and he needed her to remind him of that. Something needed to ground him in reality, even if Romulus did not like that. “I’ve been a good girl though … I found _him_. Our little feral is back in the United States. Last seen near China Town, San Francisco.”

“You found him. Good.” Romulus nodded, “That is far enough to the South that I need not worry. However if he stays there for long I will move overseas again. There is too much at stake.”

“It seems he has taken an interest in the town. I will make sure to give him a reason to leave.” Remus nodded and then shifted, looking out of the window. “So which one … ah, the slender boy isn’t it? His features do betray the heritage from his mother’s side. Too bad.”

“Too bad? How can you say such a thing?” Romulus looked out at the youths training. Few of them would move onto the next stage but Daken would. Daken was a perfect melding of defiance and submission. It was natural in the boy, and Romulus would shape it into something wonderful to behold. “I picked the dam carefully to ensure a true throwing and a fine, graceful offspring.”

“I’ve never been too fond of the Asian aesthetic but you know that, brother.” She looked back at him and sighed, “That’s why you picked her. You wanted a toy just for yourself, didn’t you?”

“I wanted a beauty who would be more than able to seduce even the most jaded and experienced criminals with little more than a look. His asian features will make people underestimate and fetishize him. It was a calculated choice. Strategic. Also the sire has a weakness for tall willowy Japanese females with fiery personalities. It was a natural choice.”

“He’s cute, I admit that. Don’t you dare let him learn from any woman but me.” Remus smirked and cocked her head, “You’ve had him already, didn’t you brother?”

“Yes. Last night was the first time. He was defiant and angry. He will not be ready for your teachings for two to three years. You will not touch him until I give you my blessing or you will relieve the dark ages Sister.” He looked at her with meaning. “What would they make of you wailing inside an Iron Maiden these days?”

“I can be good.” She leaned in close and kissed his cheek, “I will be good … as long as you visit me, brother. I’m bored and lonely, it gives me bad ideas.”

“You will be good regardless of my visiting you or not, sweet sister.” He looked out at the boy and smiled, “Otherwise I will forget why I need you.”

“Rom, stop staring at the boy and pay attention to me!” She stood up only to sink to her knees, “I know you missed me too ...”

His hands moved into her bright red hair. It was too red, too vibrant, but it still reminded him of blood. The sulky, pouty look on her face as she looked up at him was like the sun breaking over the horizon after a night of deadly storms. “Yes, sweet sister, I have missed you. However, it is best that you remind me why.”

* * *

The water was burning his skin. Daken did not care. He was sitting on the floor of the shower, eyes closed and arms wrapped around his knees. The scalding hot water seemed to do nothing to wash away the filth from his skin. 

After the … thing over the kitchen table, Master had taken him to bed. It had been hours of nothing but hands on his skin and whispered words that made him feel less than human.

Daken was not an idiot, in theory he had known what sex was. He had known that adults did these things and enjoyed them. No one ever ever seemed to speak of the unbearable pain it inflicted or the sickening feeling of filth that it left behind. The soldiers here, they did speak of the act of inserting a penis into an opening or a mouth. They just used quite different words for it than Daken choose, words that he refused to repeat.

What had happened last night – it was sex but not quite. Why did he not have a proper word for this experience? Why had it happened? What had Romulus gotten out of this? Daken just didn't understand and it made him want to scream.

He had screamed. At first. His body healed and then Romulus would split him apart again. Daken sobbed and screamed, he begged and struggled. Until his voice broke, the tears stopped and everything started to fall away. It was as if he had gone somewhere else inside his mind. Daken didn't remember how he had done it but for a while, he felt nothing. 

Then it had stopped and he came back to being wrapped into heavy arms. Romulus had held him for the rest of the night and Daken had just lied there quietly, accepting it. There had been no fight left in him. No will to struggle. No will to try and run. By morning light, Master made him dress and go train with the others. The white stuff still covering his skin.

That had been an hour ago. Daken had run to the bathroom as soon as the training was over and emptied his stomach into the toilet. Romulus had made him take it into his mouth and the taste lingered even after throwing up and brushing his teeth repeatedly. Training had been hell. It seemed like everyone knew what had happened and there were whispers and glances that made him want to die out of shame.

With his stomach empty, Daken had gotten into the shower and attempted to scrub himself clean. But no matter how hard he scrubbed, the feeling of being dirty would not leave him. Even after the blood and that dried white stuff was gone, he still felt it clinging to his skin. It was like a layer of shame and filth.

The stench of it was still there too. Mingled between Romulus scent, the smell of sweat and copper and bile. Daken had thrown up during it too and it had enraged his Master. The price for it had been claws digging into his throat and opening him up to bleed. Daken had healed of course but for a few horrifying moments he had been unable to breath and it had felt as if he would die.

Oh heaven, he wished he had died. Death sounded sweet and merciful.

Before leaving Romulus had told him he would be back the same time next week - to train him. Daken never wanted to be trained again in his life. He wanted to flee. He wanted to hide. He wanted to die. Anything but more of this. Anything.

“How much are you willing to sacrifice to stay with me, boy?”

Daken had been such a fool. He had said everything without knowing what that meant. Without understanding that everything included his will to live. If death came to him now, Daken would greet it with a smile.

Death would not come.

Perhaps it never would. Romulus had torn him apart from the inside and then continued to cut him open on the outside as well. There had been so, so much blood. Everywhere. On the kitchen table, on the floor, on the bed sheets, the mattress, the pillows, the covers. Daken was not sure that a single human could even have this much blood in them but he had. And he was still breathing.

_Face it. You will not die. You cannot escape. You would not even know where to go. There is no other place for you. You have no one else. This is your life, this is your fate. You will be whatever he wants you to be. You will do as he demands and you will thank him for the pain and the shame._

Pushing off the tile floor he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. The water was not able to help, it was just a waste of resources. Daken reached for one of the soft towels and dried himself quickly, not willing to look at his body. There was not a single sign left from what Master had done but in his mind, all the cuts were still there.

Daken managed to somehow get himself dressed, his hair in order and the cabin cleaned. It all seemed to happen on instinct. There was no thought behind it. Things needed to be clean again and these were his quarters so he had to clean them. 

Only once the sight and the scent of blood was gone did he sit down on the floor with his book in hand. Perhaps, if he learned enough, if he worked hard, if he did everything he could to appease Master -

_Do not fool yourself. He will be back and he will repeat today. Accept it. Learn from it. Don’t fool yourself._

Daken opened the book.

**I am what you will become.**

**__** _I will never be what you are._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As things seem to settle down and become sort of routine, Romulus once more interrupts any attempt at contentedness. Daken is sent to another location and while things seem better for a moment, nothing good ever lasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Part One:** Psychological Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Grooming, Child Abuse, Pedophilia, Oral Sex, Implied/Referenced Murder  
>  **Part Two:** Implied/Referenced Heterosexual Sex, Prostitution, Murder  
>  **Part Three:** Implied/Referenced Murder, Rape Aftermath, Contemplated Self Mutilation, Self-loathing, Puberty  
>  **Flashback:** Murder, Grooming, Psychological Torture, Punishment, Implied/Referenced Rape
> 
> [Visit Finnlay's Tumblr](https://sniktice.tumblr.com/)   
>  [Visit Nausi's Tumblr](https://nausiwindstrider.tumblr.com/)

**1959  
Northern Canada, Camp**

Daken was learning to pretend he enjoyed servicing. It was a work in progress. The child was stubborn and sulky which had it’s charms but Romulus was not doing this only because it was enjoyable. This wasn’t about sex. It was about breaking the boy down to his composite parts, it was about reducing the being down to raw material, it was about imprinting himself on the boy’s soul. Romulus stood up and closed his pants as Daken ran the back of his hand over his mouth. “You do learn fast but you still lack skill and that displeased expression is unacceptable.”

**“** I’m sorry, Master.” The words came without Daken even wasting a thought on them. He was not sure when it happened but apologies had stopped meaning anything to him. They used to hold a certain meaning, and importance, but now he just uttered the words in a tone that seemed honest even if he felt nothing. Perhaps being forced to apologize for things he didn’t regret had taken a toll on the action.

“You are not but that is of no concern today.” Romulus petted Daken’s cheek a little. It was still a bit sticky, and his scent would be thick in the boy’s lungs. _That_ was more satisfying than most orgasms. “You have learned all that you can learn here, boy. This facility and the men who run it have outlived their usefulness to me. Remove it from the face of the earth, burn it to the ground. Leave no man, no woman, no child, no dog, _nothing_ , alive.”

The touch was accepted without complaint but Daken looked up at his Master with a clear hint of confusion in these blue eyes. What did it mean that he had learned everything he could _here?_ Would Master drop him off at some other place now to learn something else that Daken wished he didn’t have to study? What could be worse than learning to take a life without feeling anything?

“As you command, Master.”

“Yes it is.” There was a smirk on his lips as he looked down at the child, “You have so much potential, boy. It would be a waste to simply train you in one sort of violence, one school of attack.”

“This is about the -” _What’s the English word again?_ “Pheromones, yes Master?” It was a topic that they had only briefly spoken of. Something that Daken knew too little of to understand fully and grasp as more than an abstract concept. He had read about pheromones, being curious as always, but it escaped him what kind of use it would have to be able to control that.

"Yes.” Romulus nodded and rather nonchalantly poured himself another glass of wine. “Have you ever noticed that you have the ability to alter people's moods? To make them feel as you feel?" He watched Daken closely, measuring the boy’s reaction. 

“No, not consciously. I knew I had some influence on others but I never thought it was because of some ability. My m- … Natsumi, she said that whatever I felt, they would feel too. Whether it was happiness or anger.” At the same time as she had confessed that she could not love him and that she believed he wasn’t even human. Daken would never forget that conversation which he had eavesdropped on.

“That cow did not understand of what she spoke, though her words skirt wisdom it is by an accident created by superstition.” It did not surprise Romulus that this was what Daken went back to. Even now the boy clung to the memories of his ‘tender’ years. _How much worse it would have been if I had settled him with a competent parent?_ "Just as your body must be trained, so too must your mind. Eventually you will be able to make others feel as you want them to, rather than only how you, yourself, feel. You will be able to engender fear within your enemies. And you will be able to mask your true intention by lulling your targets into a false sense of security."

Daken listened quietly as Master spoke, eyes watching the man’s expression carefully. He tried to imagine what it would be like to have the ability to actively, directly and willingly influence people. To take their will away and force his own in its place. Would that work even on Romulus? Could he make his Master act as _he_ wished instead of Master controlling him? The thought intrigued him. It was not something Daken wanted to use against just anyone but someone like Romulus? Someone who hurt him? He saw no reason not to.

_You want to control me. If one day you can I will have out done myself,_ Romulus thought to himself. "We are wolves, Daken. But you shall wear sheep's clothing. You will hide in plain sight, a smile to hide the true wolf."

The two of them were staring into the other’s eyes and in that moment Daken knew that Romulus knew. Instead of feeling fear overcome him and push aside any thought of fighting against that hold on him, he felt even more sure that he had to at least try. It might not work but it was better to go down fighting than to roll over crying. “Yes, Master.”

A wide grin spread over Romulus’ lupine features, “As I have told you many times before, you cannot rely on any one gift, and this one is the same as all the rest. There will always be people who are immune to it or situations in which it will not be enough. You will have to learn to take advantage of your other inborn assets.”

Daken did not have the time to even process that and form a question. Romulus stroked his cheeks, almost gentle in the action and said, as if he knew that Daken didn’t quite understand, “Your beauty, your intelligence. Your body.”

Romulus witnessed the way Daken shifted his weight and stiffened. _You are still so stubborn, so indignant. Is this the sire or the dam throwing true in you? Or is it something older shining through?_ “Finish your mission here within the next three days. I will send someone to pick you up and bring you to your next location. Understood, boy?”

“Yes Master. Thank you.” Again the words came automatically, just as they had with the apology.

Warm lips pressed against his and Daken simply surrendered to the kiss. Kissing was odd. It was nowhere near as confusing to him as sex though.

“Good boy.”

Romulus ruffled his hair with one hand and then walked out of the door, leaving Daken in the silence of his room. Fighting, Daken understood. That was something which could be taught and learned but who would teach things like charm and manipulation?

None of it mattered for now either way. Daken had been given a mission and he had three days to complete it. Every living, breathing person in this camp had to die. Preferably with as little actual fighting as possible. A clean job was a good job.

Daken intended to please his Master.

* * *

**1960  
Southern Canada**

**__**_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._ Daken stood over the motionless body, two claws sunk into the vulnerable throat to puncture the carotid artery. Blood was running over his hand, the bed, the floor – her body. For a moment Daken almost began to laugh at the utter irony of the moment but then worry kicked back in and he hastily withdrew his claws, shoving the body off the bed and onto the ground.

“Are you okay?” Looking at the middle aged woman he swallowed, aware that he had done something he shouldn’t have but what was new about that? Nothing. Daken liked to play with fire.

“No, I am not.” Susan sat up, disgusted and frustrated. “He paid extra.” There was blood, so much blood. “Ken … this is a mess.” His name was difficult for her to say and so she’d shifted to shortening it rather than saying it wrong. 

“You … you were crying. I could smell that he was hurting you.” There was something stubborn but also apologetic about his tone. Daken gave his Master trouble but he had been pretty good about not doing that with Susan. She was sweet and she treated him relatively well, especially for being one of Romulus trainers.

“He paid extra because that’s his kink.” The sight was no better from her feet. Her john was bleeding out, was already dead. Susan put a hand over her face, “Now I have to deal with the body.”

“What is a _kink_?” Daken frowned as he turned to get her a towel and her robe.

“It is something a person likes sexually. A lot of the time it’s something out of the ordinary, or something that isn’t normally sexual. That asshole liked crying. He liked to think he was so big he hurt whoever he was screwing.”

Daken returned with both items from the bathroom and held the towel out for her. “Too big …” Looking over at the man he blinked and then started to chuckle, “I guess some people really live in their own little world. I'm bigger than that asshole and I'm not even an adult yet.”

Without a second though she began cleaning herself up with a sigh, “The money is good for things like that. What do I care if he’s delusional? He always paid well.”

Once the blood was cleaned away Daken gently put the robe on her and then reached for a hairbrush to comb her long, blonde hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t plan this, not at all. You sounded hurt and smelled distressed so I just …” He shrugged, “Guess I let instinct get the better of me.” Master was going to punish him for that quite severely. Daken knew that he shouldn’t give instinct the chance to run free.

Susan turned and put her arms around the boy. Her lips kissed his brow tenderly. “I know you need to be chided and punished but I don’t care.” The boy brought her more money than any one john, and he was pleasant. “We will take care of the body, and then your shadow doesn’t need to know about this.”

She was always so gentle with him. Daken leaned into the embrace and smiled at her, eyes bright with relief, “If you want to dispose of a body, you need to leave nothing of it to be found. Hydrofluoric acid works fine but we’d need a big enough plastic container because it eats through everything else …” Daken made a thoughtful sound, “Or we could cut him up and find a lot of hungry animals.”

“The body will keep for an hour or two. We’ll decide what to do with it.” She stroked Daken’s cheek and smiled at him. It was nice to have someone treat her like an actual person, with feelings that mattered. Daken didn’t see her as a whore, he saw her as a person. “Are you okay Ken?”

For a few moments he stayed quiet but Susan had never asked him that when she didn’t mean it. “No, not really. I just … I don’t get it. Any of this. I know I’m supposed to learn from it but it’s just … I don’t like watching you do that.”

“I need to keep a roof over my head and soon I’ll be old and have to bring in other people’s wash, or sell other people.” She shrugged, “It isn’t a bad life, I have a comfortable home, and work that is safer than most factories. You’re so young to be here Ken, but this is life, this is real. Most everyone wants sex, I’ve just decided to turn a profit at it.”

“But why do they want it? It’s painful, messy and dirty. All it seems to be is a way to exert control and power. And I suppose to make babies but none of these people want to make any so it comes back to power and control.”

“Getting off feels good and it’s a way to forget how shitty the world is.” She shrugged, “I like sex. This is work, sex is different. Girls are better for sex, at least that’s what I’ve found.”

“What’s _getting off_?” Daken tilted his head, curious now.

“You know what that is.” Susan rolled her eyes, “The moment when they spill their seed. Women do it too, some make a mess but that doesn’t matter. It’s the moment when you don’t have to think or feel or be anything but pleasure.”

“Oh.” He frowned, “Master does that. He seems … more relaxed afterwards. So that’s why people do it? To get off?”

“You’ll hear talk about love, but love is a lie.” It felt wrong to say it, but Susan had given up on it a long time ago. This young man needed the truth, not fairytales. “It’s always about getting something, power or pleasure or something else.”

Daken nodded. That he could wrap his head around. People always strove for power. For money. This whole pleasure thing was still a mystery to him but he understood the concept at least. _Love is a lie. Connections are real though. People need other people for various reasons._

* * *

**1960  
Southern Canada**

****

Bloodshot eyes closed as he turned his head up, letting the water run over his face. It burned but in that almost pleasant way which helped him forget for a moment why he was standing under the hot stream again. There was just the water, the heat and nothing else. The steady stream of it drowned out any noise which allowed him to let himself cry. Daken had stopped crying months ago but today he felt like he had lost something important and the tears wouldn’t stop coming.

Dully he noted that the water flushing down the drain was still tinted red with blood. His body healed but that did not mean he didn’t bleed. Or that he couldn’t feel pain. Daken grabbed for the sponge with shaky hands and started to scrub at himself. Blood, urine, cum. It all washed away and down the drain. There were never signs left behind on the outside after being punished and used by his Master. The damage that stayed with him was on the inside, hidden beneath unblemished skin and a stoic expression.

Pain. Blood. Punishment. Three things which had become a part of in his life the way eating was. They almost felt like companions these days. Daken prefered them over the other things Master wanted and did. So much so that whenever a few days passed without any pain, without punishment, Daken found ways to inflict pain on himself. Either directly or through willing, planned disobedience to set himself up for punishment. 

Master seemed to know when he was misbehaving on purpose but that never stopped him from punishing Daken. Sometimes it felt as if his Master was _encouraging_ this particular behavior.

Sometimes Daken sought to be hurt, to be punished. But what happened today had been unintentional. Daken had not been looking to be bad but it still had been his fault that he was. If he had just kept his mouth shut -

Gritting his teeth he tried to push the memories aside but they wrapped around his neck like a pair of heavy hands. There was no fighting the way it overwhelmed him.

****

**~~~~~  
Earlier**

“What?”

The question seemed to hang in the air like the blade of a guillotine above the neck of a guilty man. Daken felt the weight of anticipation tighten his chest.

There was no possibility that Daken had not heard him clearly. Romulus knew that the boy understood the direction. It had been simple. Two words. Any child would understand. _You will do it Daken, and one day you will thank me for making you strong._ “Are you questioning me, boy?”

“N-no, Master!” His heart skipped a beat and Daken felt that familiar sense of dread and danger set in. He was so used to it now that it barely meant anything. “I ... thought that having trustworthy people to work with was important. I am trying to understand why she is no longer useful?” _Believe your own lie._ Daken reminded himself as he spoke and his voice grew confident towards the end of his question.

“She knows too much. There comes a point when an ally becomes a liability. You are _special,_ Daken. Your existence needs to stay hidden for now.” Romulus watched Daken closely, taking in not only the sight and sounds, but the scent of the boy. 

“But she won't talk!” Daken said the words and immediately knew that he had ruined his cover up. Master's expression changed from mildly annoyed to anger and in response Daken felt an almost irresistible urge to drop to his knees in supplication and apology.

There was still too much of the gentle child left in Daken. Romulus was not disappointed, he had expected this. It was why he had chosen this whore, and why he was spending her worth all at once, here and now. “Kill her, boy. **Now,** or I will and I believe you know what that would mean.”

Daken shut his eyes for a moment and then turned around, claws slicing through skin as he approached the cowering woman. Master would do unspeakable things before he ended her life and Daken could not bear to watch that. Susan had come to mean something to him. She was some strange mix between mother figure and older sister. Someone he trusted and wanted to protect. _And yet here you are._

The cut was deep and quick, precise in its execution. Daken knew how to kill and he knew how to do it quickly and painlessly. There was a small noise from her, a gasp perhaps, but then the lifeless body dropped to the side, lying there on the floor spreading blood across the marble. Just one more body devoid of life and meaning which littered the path his life had taken.

“You lied.” The words rumbled from Romulus’ chest like thunder to cut through the near silence of the room as he looked down on the boy. The bloody claws had not retracted yet, and Daken was staring at the whore as if she had meant something, been someone. _His heart is too kind. I have to kill it, kill the boy so that the man can be made._ “It was a clever one but not clever enough, boy. And you know the price of lying.”

_Yes I do_. Daken knew the punishment for a lot of things now. Lying was certainly not the worst but it was high on the list. Master wanted him to lie but in such a way that no one was able to tell. And it was not Master himself whom Daken was supposed to lie to.

Without a word Daken slid down onto his knees.

**~~~~~  
1960  
Southern Canada**

“No.” Sharp pain ran down from the knuckles of his hand along the wrist and up his arm as he punched the wall hard enough to damage bones and break skin. It would all heal in a matter of minutes but for the moment it helped focus him on something, anything other than _it._

One would assume that after nearly four years he would have become used to it. He had not reached that point yet though. If he was honest with himself, he _hoped_ to never reach that point. It tasted of defeat when he thought about it. But maybe there was no avoiding it. Not if what had happened this time said anything about the future.

Daken glanced down on himself and in a moment of almost childish anger he wondered if cutting off a body part would mean it grew back or if it would just heal over. Daken had never tried _that_. He had experimented with his healing factor, curious about how much he could take but cutting off a part of himself seemed stupid and too dangerous to risk. Would it hurt to regrow something? It was an interesting question but not one he was sure he wanted an answer for. If his penis was just going to grow back the whole thing would be an exercise in futility.

Master had been _delighted._ The laughter still rang loud in his ears.Daken had never felt so humiliated and confused in his life. The things that he had started to experience as Master was pushing into him, as that cock rubbed over something inside him - it had brought tears to his eyes. And then he had been _hard_ , like Master was and Daken had for the first time tried to struggle and get away. Lashing out with his claws extended and his teeth bared.

All the struggle ended with him face down on the floor, still being used, while Master laughed and said filthy things that turned Daken’s stomach and brought heat to his cheeks. And then there had been a hand around his penis and -

_**“No.”**_ He said it again and this time he pushed himself to stop thinking and start acting instead. Daken refused to get stuck on the memories. Nothing would come out of that. Nothing but pain anyway. He turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. What he needed was to find distraction. The memories would haunt his dreams tonight and there was nothing he could do about that, but as long as he was awake Daken intended to do whatever was necessary to stop himself from thinking about what had happened today. It was something he knew would happen again but for the moment, for a blissful space of time, he could pretend otherwise. He had to. Otherwise the constant fear would drive him mad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Authors Note:**  
>  Hello friends, Nausi here. I just want to remind everyone to be informed and supportive of sex workers. The character here is clearly morally gray and not a good representation of what sex-workers are like, or have been like. All sex workers deserve to be respected and to be safe. Please remember to be supportive of LGBTQA+ and people of color working in the industry as they are especially vulnerable. In light of recent USA regulations I find it important to remind people that the prohibition on sex work only drives the industry further underground and makes it more dangerous for everyone. Legalization, regulation, and de-stigmatization will save lives and protect children. Thank you for reading.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daken’s next mandated training takes him to Italy. For once he enjoys the things he is supposed to learn and become familiar with. It seems that he might even be making a connection with someone close to his age group ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Additional Tags:** Implied/Referenced Rape, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Teenage Sex, Oral Sex, Murder
> 
> **** ****
> 
> ****There was missing dialogue from this chapter due to formatting issues. Fixed on July 1st 2018** **

**1961  
Italy, Venezia, Dorsoduro  
Accademia di Belle Arti di Venezia**

< You know there’s a lot more to Italy than what you learn in a classroom. > Gabriele walked out of the old building and looked the younger boy, who was seated on the steps sketching, up and down. The boy’s name was Jun and he was was cute, cutting a sticking figure in simple yet elegant grab. He held himself like he was too good for everything and everyone. A foreign mystery, just as Gabriele had been told.

Daken did not bother to look up from his sketchbook. Some stranger, which all his classmates technically were, wasn’t worth his attention if they approached him in such a rude manner. 

< Your Italian is a bit stiff and crowded, like the leaves on a cabbage. > With a quick and easy motion he reached over and grabbed the boy’s pencil. < You need to look up, see the spires, the birds, and the beautiful faces. >

The sketchbook was shut as Daken stood, slowly. His eyes looked up at the slightly taller boy and he narrowed them. Dirty blonde almost brown hair, sun kissed, freckled skin and green eyes. Pretty. A nice motive for a portrait. If only the personality matched the pretty face. < Hand it back. >

< I could, but then you would go back to drawing instead of talking to me. > He smiled and flipped the pencil about his fingers so that it danced through the long slender digits. < I suppose I must. >

There were options here. Daken knew he could have just grabbed the pencil and returned to sketching. He could also scare the everloving crap out of this rude idiot. But why do either when he had another option which promised to be a lot more fun? < Starved for attention? >Taking a step closer he reached out, hand grasping the other boy’s wrist as he leaned close, < Maybe I could be convinced you’re worth my time ... >

It was more than Gabriele had bargained for. That showed on his face, but it did not paralyze or stun him. Instead he leaned in and nodded, < A boy like you could use a friend like me. ‘Razza mista’ should stick together. >

An idiot perhaps but not one without guts. Daken felt mildly amused and so he decided to entertain this fool for a while. < What’s your name again? >

“Gabriele Silvestro Giordano.” With a flourish of his free hand Gabriele unfolded the fingers of the one which was currently captured, offering the pencil back. 

“Fancy.” Daken took the pencil and put it in his pocket before asking, “Do you enjoy coffee, Gabriele?” _How good is your English?_

“Coffee is life, yes?” He winked and shrugged, “I’ll buy if you’ll sketch me.”

“Deal.” Daken smiled and it was that soft, sweet and charming smile which he had learned to fake perfectly. _This could be an interesting afternoon_ , Daken thought.

“Doubt you found this place.” As Jun followed Gabriele felt himself puff up with pride. “Here, you can ride on the back.” His vespa was still as shiny and lovely as the day he’d purchased it. The mellow green color made him think of melons and cool spring mornings. The streets were thick with people, but as Jun held onto him and the motor purred under them, he felt alive, the moment heavy with potential. 

It was not till they were seated, each of them with both a soda and a gelato confection in front of them that anything of consequence was uttered. Gabriele eyed the _coppa di gelato guarnita_ Jun had chosen with a little smile, “Fragole? In English what are they?”

“Strawberries.” Daken smiled as he dipped his spoon into the vanilla gelato with that thick, syrup like strawberry sauce. Sweets were still a weakness of his but not one he cared to change. Master had never seemed disapproving of it. In fact, he tended to use that to reward good behavior. A while ago, that might have seemed like a reason to shed the habit but Daken had learned a few months ago that he was already too far gone to bother with such childish attempts to defy his Master.

“Your lips are like strawberries.” Gabriele smiled before dunking into his own treat. 

Daken chuckled at that and let their knees brush under the table. This was a public space and while there were no laws that said two males couldn’t be romantic or sexual together, Italy was still a very strict catholic country. Daken knew better than to provoke in public when he didn’t need it.

The contact was returned. Gabriele looked into those pretty blue eyes and said, “I like to go both ways, there is beauty everywhere, on both sides of the river.”

The smile turned shy and Daken shifted in his seat, hand playing with the spoon. It was a game but not entirely. He understood that Gabriele was saying he liked girls and boys but Daken had no real reply to that. It was one of these things he wasn’t sure about. Aesthetically he could appreciate just about anyone and that was where things sort of ended for him. The one person that enticed different feelings inside him was one of the least aesthetically pleasing people he had ever seen. Romulus wasn’t attractive in any sense of the word but he held power over him in ways that Daken couldn’t even begin to explain. “I … yes, I think that is true.”

“You and I are the same.” The words were said with real warmth. < I knew, the first day in class when you walked in with your slanted blue eyes, I knew. >

< So you’ve been waiting for a chance to get me to pay attention? > Daken chuckled, leaning back and licking his lips slowly. He knew how to arouse someone but he wasn’t sure if that was the idea here.

< For the right time. I am no one’s pet. > Gabriele watched the alluring action and smiled, “You are beautiful Jun.”

“Thank you.” It was a nice little compliment but it didn’t mean much. Daken had heard this line too many times from the wrong set of lips. “Come back to my dorm room with me and I’ll sketch you.”

* * *

**1961  
Italy, Venezia, Dorsoduro**

“Are you going to make fun of my English the entire time?” Gabriele was holding perfectly still. He knew what the light in this room did for his rich olive complexion. 

There was a chuckle in reply but Daken did not answer right away. They were in his room again. This was now the third day and he was not yet tired of Gabriele. The other boy was clever and funny, more so than Daken had expected and it was easy to keep conversation going without boring himself. After the ice-cream and coffee they had come here and he had sketched for a few hours which then turned into a curiosity; could capture that beauty better with colors? That was just an excuse though, wasn’t it? He had wanted Gabriele to come back and so he had started a painting. _You’re lonely and he’s not boring. That’s plenty of reason to build a temporary friendship. Not that it will ever last._

“Your accent is just sort of adorable, you know? When I first learned to speak other languages, I had one too but with practice, it will disappear.”

“I am a proud Italian man. I speak the way I speak, and it is correct.” Although he meant it the words felt a bit silly even to his ears. Gabriele was seventeen, hardly a man by that counting. Still he had looked after himself for long enough to feel every inch an adult by every other accounting. 

“You’re too young to call yourself a _man_. You are still a boy.” Daken looked past the canvas at his subject and paused in surprise. The sunlight was hitting that tanned skin and making the green eyes seem to almost glow. It took his breath away and gave him an odd tingle throughout his body. “A very beautiful one even.”

“The way you say that makes me believe you.” He smiled right back at Jun and wondered what had brought that moment of true honesty out. _Is today the day?_ “I don’t even care that you called me a boy.”

“I’m still a boy too, so don’t feel bad about it.” Daken shrugged and went back to the painting. He was almost finished but now the color he had picked for the eyes seemed too dull. With a frown he reached for his colors and started to mix. “You’ll be a man before me.”

“Is it the number of years that makes a man?” There was something very serious in Gabriele’s tone now, “Or is it his ability to take care of himself, his own, and to get the things that he wants for himself? I think it is the later, and that the former is an illusion of spinning celestial bodies.”

“Age isn't meaningless. Between you and me there's only two years of difference which isn't much. But make that five, ten, twenty years - and it matters. Experience matters. I've seen only the smallest bit of this world and its people, I don't have that much experience and neither do you.” Daken made a pleased sound, content with his third attempt at mixing that particular shade of green. “A child is a child. A teenager is a teenager. We aren't _men_ yet, we lack the experience for it.”

“Maybe you’re right, but if you are that means we’re … in between.” Gabriele frowned and drew his brows together for a moment ruining the gentle smile that had been on his face. “That is a difficult place to be.”

“Possibly the most difficult one.” Daken finished the eyes and then washed out the brush before standing up. “All these annoying hormones, the fact that we aren't children but aren't adults yet either … these expectations that we pick our path in life when we have a hard time deciding between the chocolate cereal and the frosted flakes …”

“You’ve given this a great deal of thought it seems.” Gabriele sat up a little straighter, “Are you finished?”

“For today, yes. I've got to work on some details but you won't need to sit still for me anymore.” Coming over he sat down next to Gabriele and shrugged, “The person who raises me, who pays for this education … they're expecting a great deal from me.”

“For you to be a thinker? What do they want? For you to be a politician?” The face Gabriele made was one of confusion and incredulity, “Unless you were born in America you can’t be the president … I don’t understand why an artist needs to be these things.”

“Ha, I am no artist. This is simply a skill I'm learning to impress some people. As far as -” Daken hesitated, he couldn't say _my Master,_ that would come off as creepy because it was creepy. “As far as _sir_ is concerned anyway. I wasn't supposed to like this.”

“You like it though?” Gabriele tilted his head and put a hand on Jun’s knee. “I can feel that from you, the passion you have for art.”

“I …” Daken swallowed and then nodded slowly, “I like to create. What I sketch or paint, it won’t disappear and it hurts no one. I can look at it and tell myself that I’ve done something that will last. Maybe not forever, nothing lasts that long, but for a while.”

“That’s art. It is a gift.” Gabriele rubbed Jun’s leg a little and smiled. “You are gifted.”

A faint hint of color appeared on his cheeks and Daken smiled, an honest smile. “Thanks. Want to stay and get some pizza from my favorite place?”

“Of course. I’ll take you out my _caro_.” There was an answering smile on Gabriele’s face. 

That smile. These eyes. The way Gabriele saw nothing bad or wrong with him was unreal. Daken felt his heart skip a beat and then he was reaching for Gabriele’s hand. The motion was reciprocated. Their eyes met, and there was a moment of understanding. Or there seemed to be. 

_We are holding hands_. Daken felt stupid being this giddy over something so childish but it was nice. It felt nice. Maybe he sort of _liked_ Gabriele. _Master never said I couldn’t do this ..._

* * *

**1961  
Italy, Venezia, Dorsoduro**

Even after the painting was completely finished and Jun had been given a glowing review of it in class Gabriele found himself invited over nearly everyday. He could not always go, but when he did he always brought gifts, always bought Jun dinner. Today their conversation about art history and language had been cut short, but not because either of them had to leave, or had run out of things to say. Somehow their hands and lips had decided to explore a different sort of art. Gabriele felt his breath coming short and finally just pulled Jun into his lap. < Yes, yes my dear, like that … like that! >

Pressing close he kissed Gabriele again and made a soft, low sound. They had been dancing around this for a little while now and Daken had happily accepted a few harmless, short kisses but tonight he felt like there was going to be more. Gabriele was sweet, gentle even and they got along well. This was not something Daken thought he’d end up being interested in but he was. He wanted to be close.

Gabriele’s hands moved down over Jun’s ass, and gave it a hard squeeze. < You love it, being kissed, like you’re starving … >

< Less talking, more kissing. >Giving Gabriele a look he chuckled and drew him back down into a kiss. It was funny how much he liked to kiss this person compared to Romulus. It made him wonder how much better sex was going to be. He had given in, had gone to his Master and _asked_ for it but that didn’t mean he _liked_ it. There was just never anyone else’s touch and Daken did crave to be touched, to be held.

Without any argument Gabriele did as he was bid and began kissing down over Jun’s neck. He pushed his hands up under the offending shirt and started to pull it off as his lips, teeth, and tongue all tried to leave their mark. 

The shirt was throw aside and Daken curled his fingers in the gilded brown strands of hair while arching his back. Gabriele was kissing on him and that felt really nice, so much so that Daken wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it. Then he felt something nudge up against him and _that_ he knew what to do with. “Hey … you ever done this before?”

“ _Sì._ " There was a grin on his face as he looked up into those blue eyes. “No one as pretty as you though Jun.”

“Anyone ever go down on you?” Arching a brow he leaned back to really look at Gabriel.

“ _Sì._ ” Gabriele nodded to be sure Jun understood, this time his voice was not so sure. He was excited and eager. It showed in every bit of him. 

“Well, let’s find out how I compare.” It was more a joke than anything else. Daken was nervous and unsure of this but he also knew that leaving someone hanging after arousing them wasn’t _nice_. Stealing another short kiss he slid down on the floor and nudged Gabriele’s thighs apart, “Lift your hips please.” With an easy motion he pulled the pants down and then was looking at that erection. _Huh, smaller than I thought. This can’t be hard to do._ Leaning in he wrapped a hand around the base and kissed over the shaft.

The sharp gasps and high pitched moans coming out of Gabriele made it seem a as if he had lied, as if perhaps it was the first time. “Jun!” He gasped as he looked down at Jun and bit his lip, too caught up in the moment to think straight. Everyone else had just gone directly to work as it were. He’d never had the luxury of a private space, or of time like this. 

Glancing up he smiled and then ran his tongue over the tip. It was not that he had much practice taking it slow but Master had taught him how to do this. What Daken was more familiar with was the next step; Putting his lips around the tip and taking each inch down his throat slowly. It was far easier than with Romulus and Daken liked the sounds he was drawing from Gabriel even if he wasn’t particularly into his own actions.

“ _Mio Dio! Mio Dio! Sì!_ ” Gabriele felt as though his brain was being sucked out of his cock. All thought was gone. His fingers tangled in the raven black hair and pulled hard as Jun continued to outshine every previous partner. 

Daken was surprised when the older boy came so quickly but he swallowed and then leaned back to breath and lick his lips. “Good?”

“ _Migliore!_ Best! Yes!” His voice broken twice but Gabriele was proud of himself for getting the words out at all. “You … amaze.”

Smiling softly he got back up onto the couch and nuzzled close. “Good … should I brush my teeth before kissing you again?”

“No.” Their lips met and Gabriele moaned. It was just as good as he had imagined it should be. Without delay hands started to work at Jun’s pants. 

_He wants more. It’s fine. The kisses felt nice._ Daken lifted his hips a little to let the pants be pushed down and then pulled back, “Let’s … well, there is a nice bed over there.”

“Yeah.” Gabriele nodded and finished stripping his clothes off before he reached out for Jun. “Come. Come.”

Following Gabriele he lied down and drew him close, kissing him again. Kissing was really nice. Daken was pretty sure he could have spent a few hours just doing that and holding each other. That wasn’t how this worked though. “Tell me what you want.”

“All of you.” The words were hungry. Youth and excitement were fueling Gabriele. < Everything. The way you make my blood burn, need this. Never thought paying into you would pay out like this >

The words made him smile at first but then his entire body language changed towards the end. “What … what did you just say?” His eyes narrowed, “Paying into me? You – you used me.”

“You got what you wanted, and I get what I want. All the money I spent, the extra hours I worked to afford you, don’t look at me like that!” Gabriele smiled and shrugged as thought this was an easy thing to understand and something that happened every day. < Lay back now, you have to finish what you have started. >

It crashed down around him like a house of cards in a hurricane. Daken breathed out heavily, heart aching in his chest and then, a mere second later, he had them flipped and his claws were embedded in the mattress mere inches away from Gabriele’s face. “You _used_ me.”

< What sort of fucking monster are you? Get off of me! You dirty fucking animal!? You tricked me! > The sharp stench of fear, anger, and urine filled the room along with Gabriele’s shrieked demands. 

< Ah, no no no. >Daken chuckled and this time it was bitter, < You’re the one who tricked me and now you’ll pay for that. >With surprising strength he dragged the older boy off the bed and along the floor into the tiny bathroom. Cleaning up blood would be simpler here and Daken knew how to kill discreetly.

< Let me go! I thought you were a real boy! Not some fucking animal! > Gabriele cried, and writhed, trying to get out of the unnaturally strong hold. < Let me go! >

< You thought wrong. >Daken pushed Gabriele into the shower and then stepped in as well, claws slicing through his own skin once more. Just the two though. There was no reason to draw the third. < I trusted you. I let you in. I allowed you to degrade me when I sucked your pathetically small dick. And you were just using me. Just like him. >The claws drew over that bare chest, blood dripping down after them slowly.

< Please … please stop … I didn’t know. Anything you want … please! >

< No. >Daken raised his hand again and then punctured the heart with a calm, focused expression. His own still felt as heavy as a stone inside his chest. He had trusted Gabriele. _And he used me. Everyone uses me. I won’t trust again._

The spark of life fought to stay alight in Gabriele. Fought hard, but ultimately lost in a matter of seconds. With his heart rend in two there was nothing his body could do. Gabriele was just an ordinary boy scraping to get by, wheeling and dealing to get what he wanted, greedy and selfish in his desires, nothing like Daken. The light went out of his eyes as the blood pooled in the tub. His head fell back limply, and his chest stopped moving. Gabriele was dead. 

Stepping out of the shower Daken wrapped himself into a robe and then sat down in the corner of the little bathroom to cry silently. It wasn’t for the boy he had just killed. It was for himself. For the things he had lost trying to trust someone. Daken had meant to open up in the morning, tell Gabriele that there was someone hurting him and that he was scared. It hadn’t happened and he was grateful for it. There was no getting away because he couldn’t trust anyone to help, to care, to want him for anything other than their own selfish needs. Master would come visit soon. Daken decided he was fine with that – at least he already knew that Master only used him. At least it wouldn’t hurt his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hello readers, Nausi here!**  
>  This chapter was painful to write. We’ve shown how Romulus has broken Daken down, but in this chapter we are showing how the rest of the world let’s him down as well. I cannot even imagine how hard it would be to trust in Daken’s position, and then to find out that he was just a means to an orgasm - I don’t condone murder but I can understand this crime of passion. On a lighter note I was happy that we were able to add this to our Daken lore, his being a trained artist. 
> 
>  
> 
> **~ Nausi**


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Japan again. Daken enjoys the slice of home but he doesn’t really know what to do with himself without Romulus holding the leash tightly until he does ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Additional Tags:** Implied/Referenced Rape, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Grooming, Implied/Referenced Conditioning, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Punishment, Abuser/Victim Relationship, Tattoos, Soul Magic, Psychological Damage, Conflicted Emotions
> 
>  [Visit Finnlay's Tumblr](https://sniktice.tumblr.com/)  
> [Visit Nausi's Tumblr](https://nausiwindstrider.tumblr.com/)

**1964**  
**Japan**  
**Kanagawa Prefecture, Hakone**

The soft breeze of cool air against his heated skin was an odd but welcome sensation. It was the middle of summer and the heat of the sun was like a kiss. Welcome and unwanted at the same time, tugging him between the need to crawl into the cool shadow of the building while he couldn’t help but arch up into it’s warmth. A caress across his skin, a promise of itchy sunburn which would heal quickly but wasn’t something that couldn’t affect him. Much like Master’s touch and his kisses. Burning bright hot with promise while they cut into his very core and dug out another piece of his soul as he squirmed and whimpered.

 _Shut up. Stop thinking._ Angrily he closed his eyes and pushed the thoughts aside. Daken had settled on the front porch of the cottage, one hand hanging off the side to dip fingertips into the cool water of a clean river while the rest of him baked in the sun. After spending several years across the ocean in Europe, being back was odd. Japan was odd. It felt as if he no longer belonged to this place but he had never belonged in Europe or America, or Canada, or even Africa, either. He didn’t belong to a place. He belonged to a person.

Not knowing the purpose of their visit here did not help ease the stress either. Romulus had been secretive and abrasive on the matter and Daken knew better than to push his Master for answers. He had certain privileges these days but that did not imply he could simply act as he wished. For if that was the case, he would have found a way to leave by now.

It had been a week since he turned eighteen. Romulus had taken him back to Japan to celebrate the occasion. For a moment this had felt like a true gift but like all gifts, there was a price to pay. Daken should not have been surprised to be taken back to the very same spot where Romulus had first picked him up. Right where his adoptive parents had died. It shouldn’t have surprised him when he found that the house still stood. Or being taken bent over in front of that golden statue which still haunted his dreams occasionally. Daken had been so torn between emotions that he cried, even as Romulus ordered him to stop. Or perhaps he had only cried more for it? Daken could not remember much of the moment but the pain and the feeling of choking on air as he was forced to keep staring into bottomless jewels that were the eyes of the statue.

His own eyes snapped open and stared up into the blue sky above as he wondered quietly what the purpose of this visit really was. A part of him had settled on believing that it was just one more step down the road paved with broken glass and burning hot coals. At least here on the mountain, in Romulus stupid little cottage, there was no one but him. Aside from the few woodland creatures that dared to peak their heads out of the thicket.

Romulus had left three days ago, saying something about being back soon enough. Clearly Daken’s view on ‘ _soon enough_ ’ and his Master’s weren’t the same. Three days alone was at least one day too long. He _**missed**_ his Master.

With a soft huff Daken stood up and grabbed for his shirt before heading out of the cottage. The little village was about thirty minutes away and he was getting entirely too bored to not give in and at least take a look around. He had not been forbidden to leave the retreat so he might as well do _something_ with his free time.

~~~~~

The _something_ that he did ended up being mostly snacks and the occasional little flirt with a blushing young girl. The town was small and most of the people here were old or too young yet to move into the city. Daken used his new found enjoyment for casual flirting to his advantage. There was something about the way people smelled when they felt complimented and intrigued which he liked. Arousal was a scent that made his stomach turn but curious interest and general attraction were fun. Flirting was also the easiest way to make someone feel relaxed and trusting without having to rely on his secondary mutation and Daken had learned to never take it for granted that his pheromones would work on someone.

As he wandered the streets, Daken took in the people around him. Watched them move about, busy and focused, paying little attention to what was going on outside of their own tiny, pathetic lives. The show was made better by his treat. There was nothing else in any of the countries he had been to which he liked as much as Dango. Chocolate was nice but nowhere near as tasty as the little balls made of rice flour. Perhaps it was nostalgia but even if it was, Daken still indulged himself. Master was not there to scold him for acting childish and too human.

By the time he was finished with his treat and had explored most of the village, the sun had started to set. That meant he should be heading back to the cottage, just in case Master was home. With a sigh he turned when he spotted a shop he had previously paid no attention to.

An older woman, deep copper skin and hazel eyes, was sitting at the front now. There was a table next to her with odd looking instruments and the man she was working on had taken off his shirt to get a large, bold tattoo across his left shoulder and down his back. Daken had seen people get tattoos but not like this. After a brief moment of hesitation he curiously approached and began to silently observe when neither the old woman nor the customer seemed bothered by him.

The sun had set and the air was cooling by the time the customer paid, thanked the woman and left. Daken stayed, watching her collect the tools and clean up. After few moments he took at step closer and asked, tentatively, _< That was an interesting ritual. I’ve never seen anything like it. You are not from Japan, yes?  >_

 _< I am not from Japan.  > _The old woman nodded. Her Japanese was oddly accented and was hard for Daken to place. _< This village has been my home for longer than I care to remember now.  >_ She handled her tools with great care. _< What is it I can help you with young lord?  >_

 _< Ha, I’m no lord. Just a curious boy looking for something to do.  > _He made a thoughtful sound and observed the tools again, _< The man hissed a few times. It is a painful process is it not?  >_

 _< Beauty is pain.  > _Her shoulders shrugged. They were broad and her muscles were still firm though her skin had begun to loosen on her. _ < Life is pain. But yes ‘boy’ the art hurts. >_

Was it even possible for him to get a tattoo? Would his healing factor just reject the ink or break it down within hours? If it hurt, that meant it was in some form or other an injury and usually these healed. Except for whatever Romulus had done on his shoulder. That thick, foul smelling paste had burned into his skin and left behind thick scars which still had not faded weeks after the fact. It had been punishment for disobedience. Would a tattoo cover them? Would Master snap at him for trying? Somehow it was that thought, that idea of pissing off Romulus which made him speak, _< Would you give me one? I can pay well.  >_

She looked at Daken for a long hard moment and then demanded, < Give me your hand ‘boy’. >

Without hesitation he offered his left hand to her. It was his preferred one even though Romulus had groomed him to be ambidextrous.

There no care that he had handed her the left hand, it did not concern her. After a moment what she was interested in, at least in part, became apparent. She pinched the skin on the back of his hand, softly at first and then hard, and harder. Each time she let go and looked at how quickly the skin sprung back. After a moment or two of this she pulled a small knife from a pouch at her waist and pricked the skin.

Daken did not even flinch or do so much as blink. A tiny cut like that was nothing. It did not even register as pain. _< I heal. Don’t scream.  >_

 _< Do you think you are special?  >_ The blade disappeared with a few deft motions. The wound was already gone and the woman was not at all disturbed. Her dark eyes looked into him, seeing things that were unseen and painfully obvious for those who knew how to look. _< Ah well, someone has put their mark on you. None of that matters in the here and now. You wish a tattoo.  >_

 _< I know I’m not the only one but I also know how easily people frighten at things they do not understand.  > _Daken decided right then that he liked this woman. She was not scared and she had attitude. _< Could you make a tattoo that would last? At least for a bit?  >_

< I can mark your soul. > She motioned for Daken to follow her, < Get into the chest under the window, there are candles and oil. We will need light. It is good that you came to me now. Such work is best done under the stars. >

Daken simply obeyed. There was something about this woman which told him he could trust her, in a sense. Whatever would happen, it couldn’t kill him anyway. _This is going to be an interesting night._

~~~~~

It was late and Daken was still in the village. Romulus had caught his scent. There was little the boy could do there which would seriously displease him so there was no need to collect the boy. Instead Romulus sat with a book, a bottle of wine, and a delicate glass. The woman who was keeping the cottage for him had seen to all his needs and apologised well for being inadequate. Japan had always suited him. People had not forgotten how to serve on this island. He heard the sound of footsteps and caught the boy’s scent again. Romulus did not look up.

The scent that greeted Daken as he entered the cottage gave him pause and then he felt his heart skip a beat. “Master.” His voice was soft and demure as he closed the door, shed his shoes and entered the living area. “Welcome back, Master.”

“I see you grew bored of waiting for me.” Romulus closed the book and looked Daken over. “There is an odd scent on you.” _And something else …_

“Ink, Master.” Daken nervously licked his lips and then began to strip, laying himself bare to eyes that consumed his very soul.

It was a sight he was familiar with, but which never grew old or tiresome. Daken had changed in recent years. His shoulders were not yet wide, but he was losing much of his boyishness. Romulus wondered if it would be the sire or the dam which the grown wolf took after. The sight of bold black lines gave Romulus’ thoughts pause. He took it in and connected it to that _thing_ he sensed. It was not something which could be washed away. This was a true marking. It had not been done for him, but for Daken’s own sake. Romulus weighed it carefully, and took in the shape and meaning of the markings. _A dragon. That which you fear._ After a moment Romulus chuckled and shook his head. “You are a hapless child.”

Daken traced the lines on his chest, “It is you, Master.” He did not dare look at Romulus but instead kept his eyes downcast as he dropped onto his knees.

 _It is your fear but that is what I desire._ Romulus rolled his eyes and shook his head, “With the mohawk, your eyes, and this, you make a poor assassin. You do not seem to be interested in blending in. So be it boy. I will take it as fate. It is no small thing to find one skilled in these arts.” He motioned, “Come here, kneel at my knee.”

“What good would it do me to blend in with the crowd, Master?” He obeyed easily, crawling over to settle by his Master’s thigh, “My skills lie in being seen and noticed … is it not an art form to strike when they assume to know me?”

“The shadows have served me well for centuries.” Romulus reached down and stroked the silky black hair. “You would make yourself into one of these neon signs and kill with a spotlight on your back.” His broad shoulders shrugged as his fingers tangled on the long fine strands, “It will serve boy. We will play that game and see how far it takes you. North America is forbidden to you entirely though. You will not go there on pain of death.”

It made him curious but Daken knew when to ask questions and when to simply accept things as they were told. “Yes Master. I see nothing which would make me wish to go there either way.”

 _You know so little._ Romulus pulled hard on Daken’s hair. “What are you?”

“Yours.” The tug did things to him and Daken shivered in anticipation. Master was going to use him and it would feel amazing. “Yours, Master. I am yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit goes to [Sand3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sand3/pseuds/Sand3) for the initial idea of a "magical" tattoo being the interesting explanation for Daken's regrowing Tattoo.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twenty years. Romulus waited for this moment twenty long years and it pays of so beautifully it is worth every minute spend waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **IMPORTANT!!!**  
>  "Bleed the life from me" is **not** a part of "Change the Game" anymore. It has no connection to "The Devil you know". Due to long discussions and changed opinions this is just a detailed "Daken's life" backstory. 
> 
> **Additional Tags:**
> 
> **Part 1:** Murder, Conditioning, Implied/Referenced Rape, Implied/Referenced Uxoricide, Attempted/Referenced Infanticide, Lies  
>  **Part 2:** Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Murder, Implied/Referenced Date Rape, Self Harm, Bad Coping Mechanisms, Depression, Trauma  
>  **Part 3:** Rape*, Sexual Content, Fingering, Conditioning, Brainwashing, Trauma, Abuse, Lies, Master/slave Dynamic, Father/Son Dynamic, Rapist/Victim Relationship, Unhealthy Relationship, Abusive Relationship, Manipulation  
>  **Part 4:** Emotional Manipulation, Implied/Referenced Murder, Alcohol
> 
> *Daken sees the rape as consensual sex due to two decades of grooming. Be aware that his perception of the situation is incorrect.
> 
> [Visit Finnlay's Tumblr](https://sniktice.tumblr.com/)  
>  [Visit Nausi's Tumblr](https://nausiwindstrider.tumblr.com/)

**1977  
Afghanistan, Herat **

Afghanistan was all dry heat and dust. It was the sort of place one would dig out from under their nails for days after getting out of the country. Romulus was not fond of it, but he knew Daken loathed it. That was one of the many reasons he’d sent the boy here, why he sent him to any desert he could. As Romulus made his way through the dark halls he caught a change in the air, it was not quite so dry here.

The room was a bloody mess. It was in shambles, it was filled with broken limbs and starings sightless eyes, and the smell of death. Some men loosed their bowls in the moments before death, some pissed themselves, others choked on their own vomit before they could bleed out. Every single one of them were dead save for Daken. Romulus felt himself bolstered by the energies here, these souls let free in his name. It was heady and made the words play over his tongue and lips in an almost glib fashion, “You have done well, Daken.” Romulus licked his lips as he watched Daken’s posture, the perfect angle of his spin, how he turned like a dancer, the way his breath had hitched, and decided now was the time, now was finally the time. “Even your father would be impressed.”

It was always a pleasure to watch Daken react. It didn’t matter if the stimulus was positive or negative. Romulus always loved watching his little toy dance to his music. Just now Daken was torn between glowing with the praise and horrified confusion. “My - ?”

_Oh look at you Daken. Look at you squirm._ “He lives, you know.” Romulus walked into the bloody mess and grinned as the sun fell upon his bare chest. 

“I ...” Romulus watched as Daken bit his lip, the horror he could smell growing inside Daken was delicious. “I assumed he was dead, Master.”

_You are still such an innocent Daken. You spill blood, and you never ask why. You balk at seduction and refuse to harm children. You don’t look out at the wider world and wonder what sort of man could have sired you. The little bits of story you were fed at Akihira’s knee are enough. ‘Likely a soldier raped a woman of good standing. She would have died of disgrace and left the child to be reared or not as the gods saw fit.’ Do you really think that it could have been just anyone? Oh Daken, you foolish, innocent boy …_ “And he you.”

The widening of those steel blue eyes, the unevenness of breath, the rising anger, it was a beautiful thing to watch and Romulus savored it, letting out each little bit of information slowly as he stepped over broken bodies, "He killed your mother, Daken. With you in her belly." Romulus breathed the words into the room and watched as Daken reacted, watched the myriad of simple predictable emotions tumble through him,"Do you want to know why?" _Do you know Daken? Do you know the answer?_ "Because he was afraid of what you would become. He was afraid of **me**."

The silence that followed was heavy. Thick. It filled the room, filled every last bit of available space. Romulus noted how Daken shifted, how he ground his teeth, how his eyelids fluttered as his mind worked, rolled each little detail over. _Do you even suspect Daken? Can you doubt me? Is such a thing beyond you now? I will know soon enough._

“ _Why_?” The word was more snarl than speech, which surprised Romulus a little. Their eyes met and Daken continued to speak. “Why would he be afraid of you? What connection do you have to him? To me? Why _now?”_ There was raw deep anger in Daken’s voice. The words were brittle and seemed almost as if they might turn to dust and blow away. 

That spirit, that confused trust, it was beautiful, even more so than Romulus had imagined. He’d waited so long for this moment, waited longer than Daken had drawn air into his lungs. Now that it was here he savored it, “Why now? I walked into this room and saw you like some sort of force of nature, blood on your claws but nowhere else. So circumspect, so meticulous. _He_ would be covered in it, your father. He was always a bloody killer, more animal than man.”

Romulus could practically hear the gears turning inside that brilliant mind. Daken was possibly one of the naturally smartest people he had ever had the pleasure to groom and tricking a mind so bright and clear into believing every single lie was incredibly satisfying.

“I see.” There was a pause and then, “Did he rape her?”

“If you had seen him you would have no question on that point.” Romulus shook his head, “From the mud grows the lotus my boy. I trust you will remember that teaching, even as you learn the full truth of your conception.”

Daken seemed to simply swallow that and the next words were said completely devoid of emotions in tone and expression, “I finished the mission, Master. May I return to Italy?”

“Yes, you may.” Romulus watched the boy bow, turn and leave the building. _We will see what you choose to do now._

* * *

**1977  
**Germany, Frankfurt****

****

The echo of heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin inside a near bare room sounded louder to him than any scream earlier that day. Daken remember the noise of bones breaking, of little whimpers and muffled screams but they had made him feel _nothing_. This wasn’t what he had hoped for either but oh, the thrill of touch was so delightfully pleasant regardless of the grief he was drowning in.

< _Fuck, you’re tight._ > It was the way these hands tightened on his hips which drew his attention, however distracted it was, back to the moment. German was an amusing language to use in the bedroom. It always sounded far, far dirtier than any other one he knew. 

_You are being fucked by a stranger and you think of screaming targets and the particulars of languages._ Daken _almost_ laughed at the utter insanity of the moment instead, he smirked as he pushed his hips back and tightened around the length inside him, < _Harder. Don’t fuck me like a girl. >_

An hour, and several orgasms later, he was lying in bed alone as the door fell shut. A bundle of money was left on the nightstand next to the syringe, spoon, lighter and tourniquet. The sun was beginning to rise and he felt the familiar sense of emptiness and loss set in. No amount of alcohol, drugs, sex or murder was doing _anything_ for him other than to briefly elate the mood. Romulus told him that he should have died by his _Father's_ wishes and actions, and Daken had run. He had, for the first time in his life, said one thing to Romulus and done another. An odd twisted feeling of satisfaction and guilt came with that fact and Daken did not know what to do with that.

None of the people he had slept with in the last eight days had pushed him beyond a little slap on the ass here, a bit of hair pulling there. None of them had been worth the effort and so he had made all of them pay for it. Literally. Just with the money made in these couple of days he could have survived for a month without any worry, but it – it wasn’t doing for him what he _needed_ it to do.

With a huff he rolled out of bed and onto his feet just to regret the action. His head was spinning but above all, he could feel cum dripping down his thigh. With a disgusted sound he went straight to the bathroom of ‘his’ penthouse and turned on the shower. Afterwards there was always this odd, uncomfortable feeling of disgust and guilt. Daken knew that this had to do with Romulus and he knew that it would haunt him forever but he still found himself surprised at the intensity of it every time it happened. Even in the instances where he had been _ordered_ to sleep with a target.

Speaking of targets - he had killed the real owner of this place because – well, why not? He’d seen him slip something into a girls drink at the bar and then decided that was the mark. As good reason as any Romulus ever gave for assassination jobs. No one would miss a lonely, depressed, sexual predator who dwelt in a home which looked about as lived in as a show house.

His back pressed against the cool tiles he stared up at the ceiling as the water ran down his body. He was homesick. He missed _him._ He missed his Master and he missed his Master’s touch. It was the only constant in his life for the past twenty years and no matter how much he pretended not to be human – in the end he still craved certain things. Love. Affection. Companionship. Touch. All the things he had tried, and failed, to find in the arms of others.

“Romulus …” The word was almost impossible to hear, drowned out by the sound of the water running. Daken had been _angry_ when he ran. Angry that Romulus had not told him before, disbelieving that it was because Romulus hadn’t known earlier. Daken still did _not_ believe that but he could look past it – in the end all that Romulus, that his _Master_ , did was for his own good. Years and years ago, Daken knew he would have tried to chase after his ‘Father’ in anger and probably just been kicked like a tiny puppy and run home to lick his wounds at his Master’s side anyway. Whoever _exactly_ his Father was, he was dangerous enough to make Romulus look concerned and that - that was terrifying in itself.

_I ran._ Daken thought as he turned off the water, _I ran. What will he do with me for disobeying in such a way?_ He paused, _What will he do if I don’t come back willingly?_ Whatever it was, Daken never wanted to find out. He would have to return to Italy, to Florence, and just accept his punishment. He _deserved_ to be punished for his disobedience.

* * *

**1977  
Italy, Florence**

Remus had insisted that he’d lost Daken, that he’d overreached, and ruined it all. Romulus knew she was wrong. He had not worried for a moment. His sister understood what the end goal was, and she was incredibly good with people, but she did not understand Daken. To her he was simply a knock off, a diluted bit of their goal, a means to an end. Romulus had once thought that the boy might be no more than that, but that had been sometime ago. Romulus had known for most of the boy’s life that he was more than the sum of his parts. And Romulus had shaped the boy accordingly.

There was no doubt of what he would do. It did not surprise him when his contacts told him that Daken was in Florence. It did not surprise him when he caught the boys scent. It did not surprise him when Daken came directly to him and fell to his knees. They were in the garden of his villa, it was spring, and all the natural world was waking from its slumber. Romulus looked down at Daken, at how the sun glinted off his blue black hair and smiled, “Boy, why do you kneel?”

Daken barely dared to breathe, much less move or glance up but the words confused him. What else would he do after disobeying? “I -” He swallowed, forced a deep breath and then answered, “I ran, Master. I disobeyed. I’m here to accept my punishment.”

“When have I have spoken to you about your father before that day?” Romulus shook his head, “Never. The truth of your parentage is a question that has burned in you all your life. I gave you the answer and told you that not only did your father force himself on your mother, but that he killed her in an attempt to kill you, that the quickening of his seed in her womb was her death.” He paused to draw breath and reached down for Daken, to stroke his hair gently. “You were not yourself Daken. You were grieving, you are still grieving.”

“Master …” Leaning into the touch came so easily and natural, this was what he had been missing. This comfort, this routine, this reassurance. “I’m so sorry Master. I shouldn’t have run.”

“Now you know that nothing good comes of separating yourself from me.” Romulus stroked Daken’s cheek. “It is a lesson you had to learn. If I could have had my own way I would have kept you with me.” Romulus tipped Daken’s face up so that they were looking each other in the eyes, “I was worried for you pet.”

Daken felt himself go pliant and his heart beat faster, Master was _looking_ at him. “I’m sorry. Please, let me make up for it, Master.”

“Foolish boy.” Romulus shook his head and stroked Daken's cheek, “There is nothing for you to make up for. You are here. Would you see a play? A musical? Or do you prefer to stay in the villa?”

It didn’t make sense. Daken knelt there, eyes wide and body aching for touch, and just stared up at his Master. He had been _bad,_ he _disobeyed_. Why was Master not angry with him? Why was he not being punished for his choice? He shouldn’t _make_ choices. “Master … I - …” Licking his lips nervously he scooted closer and rubbed his chin on the inside of one thick thigh, “Please?”

Outwardly his face was calm and passive, his body relaxed and unexcited. Inwardly Romulus delighted. This was just what he wanted to see. Daken desperate to please, desperate to make amends even when he was told no wrong had been done, no wrath incurred. More than that Romulus knew that Daken was seeking balm for his bruised and bleeding heart. A terrible thing had been revealed to the boy, and he was struggling to make sense of it. Romulus smiled ever so slightly and got hold of Daken’s chin, forcing his head to stillness, “Boy, I have told you that there is no apology to make. Have you been rendered senseless by grief?”

Daken held still and just breathed for a moment before saying, “I _want_ to be touched, Master. I want you to use me - to hurt me. _Fuck me_. I need to forget.” _And no one else could do what you do. No one else would ever push me to the edge._

“I will give you comfort.” Romulus nodded, “You are like a son to me, I can deny you nothing.” With a firm hand he guided Daken to stand and then wrapped his arms around his narrow waist. He brought their lips together in the sort of tender feeling kiss he might give to an equal, few though they were, and held Daken close.

Daken went pliant instantly. The kiss did not play out as he was used to though and that made him antsy. Was Romulus expecting something from him other than surrender and acceptance? Nervously he tried to kiss back, tried to not just be a malleable piece of flesh to be used.

It was only when Daken kissed back that Romulus added a little more heat, for every bit that Daken gave Romulus rewarded him with passion. His hands moved over Daken’s back, gentle and thoughtful. 

Making a soft, low sound he breathed out heavily when they parted and just stood there for a moment, taken aback by what had just happened. It was almost as if Master _cared_ that he had been hurt emotionally. What a silly, stupid thought. “Master ...” His right hand traveled down between them, reaching for that familiar cock.

Daken would find that it was less than flaccid but not excited, and then he would find his wrist held in the firm grasp of his master, “You do not understand. You are grief stricken.” Romulus lifted Daken into his arms and straight off his feet. “Lean close, I will take you inside.”

There was silence between them as Romulus moved through the villa. There were servants, but they quickly left, knowing that they were unwanted, and not meant to be seen. Romulus couldn’t help thinking that Italy was becoming less and less desirable a place to live. The people took too long to break into proper servants. It was Daken’s expression and scent of confused pleasure which distracted him from these thoughts. There was a pleasant blush on those high cheeks and Daken was nuzzling close to him, seeking out the warmth. Once in his suite and in front of his large bed Romulus set Daken down and kissed his brow. “You will stay with me. The world will wait.”

“I … I don’t understand, Master.”

It was a beautiful thing to witness. The way Daken seemed to try to grasp what was happening but couldn’t wrap his head around being treated with gentle kindness. Twenty years. Twenty wonderful, long years of careful grooming to reach this point and it paid off beautifully.

“I wish … no, I **need** to serve.”

“You returned, that is the service that I desire.” Romulus reached down and pushed his fingers through Daken’s hair with a motion that started familiar but ended with gentleness. “You do wish to stay with me, do you not boy?”

“Yes, yes please, _please._ ”

The desperation was music to his ears and Romulus hmed in response as his finger continued to push through that silky, dark hair.

“This isn’t enough … I want to _hurt,_ Master. Please.”

“You are already hurting child.” Romulus began to undress Daken, his mind a whirl with excitement, his face a mask of concern. Once, just this once, he had to be gentle and patient. Had to take his time with Daken and unfold him until there was nothing human left so that all the work he had put in until this point would permanently stay with the boy.

“But it hurts the _**wrong** _ way.”

“You think more pain, pain of the flesh, will wash away what you are feeling?” Romulus cocked his head as he looked at Daken, nude and willing before him.

“Yes, yes _please_ , Master. I don’t want to think anymore.”

“And then what?” Romulus shook his head, “You need to think of the long game boy. There is more than just this day, this moment. Lay down, on your back, breathe.” The sight of Daken’s obedience was pleasing. Sometimes the boy struggled, even now, but not today. Today he did just as he was told, and trembled with need, want, and anticipation. Romulus pulled a bottle of lubricant out of the bedside drawer and then stroked Daken’s knee. “Good, just breathe and think of me.” Romulus got onto the bed between Daken’s thighs and gently stroked his hips, “Remember, you belong to something bigger, something eternal. You are my heir.”

Lubricant. Daken stared at the bottle as Romulus kissed along the inside of one of his thighs. They did not use lubricant unless - “Master ...” The rest of the sentence never made it out because Romulus put the bottle in his hands.

“These claws prevent me from doing all for you.” His voice was warm and smooth, “Make yourself ready, and do not rush. That sort of pain is not my goal.”

His eyes widened and there were a million questions racing through his mind but Daken did not dare to ask them. The cap of the bottle opened and he slicked his own fingers before reaching down to prepare himself. It was tempting to be quick about it, to skimp on getting himself actually ready but those knowing silver eyes watched him closely and Daken knew not to give into temptation. Romulus, for whatever reason, wanted him to not hurt this way today.

Romulus leaned down and licked over Daken’s straining body, tasting the boy’s need and desire. There was no doubt in him that Daken would do as asked, that he would fit himself to the form desired, and that there would never be a way to break the bonds forged in this bed. “Good boy.”

~~~~~~~

Daken woke to the smell of semen, blood and sweat. The bed was empty and so was he. A pleasant dull throb of mending flesh and overworked muscles seemed to wash away any thought of what had made him run in the first place. Master had treated him with such gentle care and whispered words that Daken had never thought could be true even as he prayed for them to be. It hadn’t been enough though. It couldn’t be enough because in the end, he was wired to work one way and one way only.

Rolling out of bed he made a disgusted sound at the state of the room and then shook his head. Servants would handle that. He only had to clean himself and dress. Master had promised to take him to see something he had earned in these last five hours.

Five hours. Had it really been such a short period of time? It had felt like days. Each thrust, each cut, each whispered word had blended together until he lost any sense of time but the clock on the wall told him the truth. He had pushed Romulus but clearly his Master had retained some sense and stopped before they both lost themselves in the madness of it all.

His Master. His _Father_. His … lover. Daken struggled to understand how one person could be all of that at once but this was the reality of things. He was the pet, and the boy, and the heir. None of that made sense either but it was also true. _He loves me. He needs me. He wants me._ The heat of the water was welcome and Daken closed his eyes as he thought, _I love him. I need him. I want him._

* * *

**1977  
Canada, Saskatchewan, Mullingar**

A pale figure opened the door of the bar and stumbled out, vibrant blue eyes looking around in a haze and expression of grief and confusion.

Daken leaned there on the edge of the forest against the tree, hands in the pockets of his coat, eyes following the stumbling man. An odd sense of satisfaction filled him as the drunk fool slipped and fell, covering himself in mud. It was almost better than the things Master had promised him he’d be able to do to this man one day.

That man. That was **_him._**

This pathetic excuse of a man was _his_ Father. The person that Daken had gotten one half of his genes from. The man that was responsible for the healing factor, the enhanced sense and the claws in his hands. Daken had done his research and what he had read seemed to taste of lies now. Bitter, vile lies that sat in his throat threatening to choke him with anger and frustration. That stench of alcohol, blood and self loathing filled the air all the way up to his little hiding spot. That man down there struggling to get back on his feet, was nothing like he expected James Howlett to be.

**Almost** nothing like expected at least.

Daken could not deny that he was noticing a certain resemblance between his Father and himself. The color of their skin was similar – more similar than it had ever been to his adoptive parents and the majority of people in his village. There was an almost honey like glow to the tan and it made one feature stand out as clear as day – bright blue, clear eyes with that silvery gray undertone. _His_ eyes. It had indeed been his Father who gave him those bright blue eyes. The eyes that had given away his mixed heritage and which he had not been able to do _anything_ about. The eyes that made Natsumi hate him and which had brought him his _name_.

That was about where the resemblance ended though. Daken had none of the features of his Father. Not the strong jaw or the shape of that nose, none of the excessive body hair or the short stature. It filled him with a pleasant sense of pride that all they shared were skin and eye color. _I am not what you are. You are not what I am. You are nothing but the sperm donor of my existence. You are not my Father. I **have** a Father._

What little Daken had been able to gather on this man, had spoken of military history. Of things such as bravery and skill. What his eyes saw in this moment was nothing like the stories. That man crawling into his car and trying to ignore the sobbing, outraged woman - that man was nothing but a drunken, pathetic waste of air. There was no skill, no grace, no cunning. His oh so praised “Father” had not even seemed to pick up on the fact that someone wanted to put a bullet in his head.

No, this was not what Daken had expected and in an odd response to his expectations being crushed, he stopped the sniper. One hand gently but insistently pushing the gun down.

“No.” His voice cut through the air, “Not now. Not like this.” Meeting the eyes of the sniper he smiled, “You have time.” Daken crouched down, one hand on the man’s shoulder, “We both do.”

The car drove off and Daken, for the first time since Romulus told him _Logan_ was alive, felt as if he did not need to hunt the man. If they were meant to meet, if he was given the chance to kill his Father, Daken would. But this man was not worthy of obsession. This man was nothing. One day, he’d make him pay for what he’d done to this mother but today wasn’t that day.

There were other things that demanded his attention. Daken left the man with the sniper rifle behind after slipping a business card into his pocket, and turned back, wandering through the forest towards his own car parked down on the road. Romulus was waiting outside of it for him, a smile on those thin lips.

“So, you saw the great Wolverine.” The words were warm, but the grey eyes were cool and calculating. There were plots and plans and secrets lurking just below the surface. “I heard no gunshot.”

“There was none, Master.” Daken gracefully jumped from the little ledge down onto the street and dusted off his coat. “He was not what I expected. Not even close.”

“I hope I will not lose you to him.” It was spoken in earnest, the expression and sound in Romulus’ voice backed up by his scent. This was no lie. 

Blue eyes widened and Daken turned to look up at his Master with a confused, insulted expression, “Why would you even think that, Master? I - I know I’ve been … difficult but I never have betrayed you. Never.”

“Wolverine is a leader of men. There are those who think me a fool to have told you of him, and worse to have brought you here to see him.” Romulus shrugged his wide shoulders and cocked his head, “I do not think I am wrong to place my trust in you boy. You are my heir.”

“I want _nothing_ to do with him. Nothing. He is a pathetic drunk murderer, and he isn’t even _good_ at it. He left witnesses, he did it loudly and sloppily.”

Romulus nodded, his expression settled, and scent clear of any doubt. “Get in the car boy. The world will not wait forever. We must prepare to cleanse it.”

As Daken stepped into the car, obeying his words Romulus allowed himself a smile. Everything had gone as he had wished it to go. Daken was more dedicated to him than ever, and his hate for Wolverine was all consuming. _You are the perfect tool Daken. Your blind faith is like mana for the soul._ Romulus got into the car and gave the driver a nod as he placed his hand attop Daken’s thigh.The way the boy leaned into him was satisfying. _Heir? You are a doll, a favorite plaything that thinks itself alive. You are but the finest of cattle Daken. The most deadly blade. You will never rule._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hello all, Nausi here!**
> 
> Another chapter of "Bleed the Life from me" for you. This is a long labor of love. Finn and I have been spending a lot of time talking about our stories and what we want to do. The "Change the Game" series, and "The Devil you know" were Finn and my first big go at Fanfiction past a one shot in years. We had both written multi chapter fics before, but nothing on this scale. We’ve learned a lot in just under a year. As such we’re exploring possibilities. Expect to hear and see more in the future. 
> 
> This chapter of "Bleed" is very important. This is the moment in which Romulus solidifies his hold over Daken, and proves that escape is impossible. He uses tactics common to domestic abusers and abusive caregivers. **Let us be clear on this;** Romulus is a rapist and a manipulative abuser. He’s spent decades trying to turn a thinking being into his slave and weapon. There is nothing romantic about it, though Romulus does try to paint their relationship in that light. Daken believes what he has to in order to cope. 
> 
> If you or anyone you know are in an abusive relationship please talk to someone. There are resources and organizations dedicated to helping. These differ from region to region. Talk to someone, and make a plan to get help. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan meets Daken. Daken meets the whip. And Romulus is underestimating the rage and frustration of a broken soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Additional Tags:** Explicit Violence, Gore, Torture, Punishment, Conditioning, Dysfunctional Father/Son Relationship
> 
> [Visit Finnlay's Tumblr](https://sniktice.tumblr.com/)  
>  [Visit Nausi's Tumblr](https://nausiwindstrider.tumblr.com/)

**[Wolverine: Origins #10]**

The only thing that really mattered, the thing he came to thinking of, was whether or not Jubes was safe. It was why he was here, and it was why he had to get out. Jubes was a smart girl, a clever girl, but this was a bit out of her wheelhouse. She wouldn’t be able to sass her way out of this situation. Logan knew he couldn’t just relax, he couldn’t just wait for the perfect time, enduring whatever had to be endured. He had to focus, he had to get his wits about him, and he had to get out, find her, and get the hell out again, all in one piece. It wasn’t going to be easy with ol’ Dum Dum in the way out there. Logan knew it was him, knew his old friend was standing guard over him. The pair of them knew each other far too well. Dugan knew he’d be plotting and scheming how to get out of these metal restraints.

His wrists, arms, chest, and head were all contained. Logan could hardly move, and couldn’t do anything about the relaxed spread eagle pose they’d put him in. He couldn’t even speak, not really, not with the metal pressed against his lips, cupping his jaw. He could see, and breath, and smell. The room he was in was sterile but not sealed. He could smell Dugan, he could hear the horde of footsteps move away, like muffled thunder. Then blood. _What in the hell is going on out there?_

The doors opened and he caught a heavy whiff of it, of the blood. Logan frowned as the SHIELD agent came in, the doors slid shut on their own, and they were alone. There was something off about this agent. They were dressed like any grunt, but they moved like Romanoff. There were no words, no demand, no instructions, and all his restraints stayed in place. The agent reached up, pulled off the helmet, and suddenly Logan could smell them. The sight, the scent, it all hit him at once and Logan knew, _he knew_. 

_**He’s just like me.** _

It was there in the man’s eyes, steel blue and lit with hate. Logan could see it, could see the echo of himself in the man’s shoulders. He saw Itsu too and knew without a doubt that this was hers, that this was the child he had loved and lost before they was even born. The scent said it all, it spoke of heritage and of monsters and Logan felt a deep sadness rising in him at the same time as an intense joy threatened to drive him mad. Itsu’s boy was alive. He _**is**_ alive.

_Emma was right. My son’s alive. He’s alive - and Romulus raised him._ A tear ran down his face at that thought. _The baby didn’t die. Our baby …_

Rage, pure, righteous, and fueled by fear rolled off of the man, his son. A sneer curled his lips, and then his arm moved, black claws flashing across Logan’s exposed abdomen. The pain was intense, but it was nothing compared to the realization that hit him in that moment. _They made a killer out of Itsu’s baby. They took her out of him._

“He was right about you.” The words were ground out, said almost mechanically, with forced bravado and heat, “You’re weak!”

Logan felt his head swim with pain, his body sag, and his world go grey. There was blood on the floor. The man was still there, his hair a river of midnight as he turned, “We’ll meet again, _Dad_.”

Somehow the floor came up to meet Logan as the world turned on it’s side and the man, his son, walked out.

* * *

**[Wolverine: Origins #11 - 15]**

“Begin!”

The order was followed by the sharp sound of air being cut by a whip and Daken hissed through his bared teeth. It always hurt, that first hit. What followed was more bearable, possibly because his mind began to wander and ignore the abuse. It did not stop him from glaring up at Victor though. Not that the blind, deaf idiot would even notice. The other member of the audience to his punishment, however, did. Daken instantly regretted showing any sort of reaction to the pain.

“You think you're so _special_ ... that you're better than everybody else. But deep down you're just a wild animal, chewin' at the bars of his cage. Just like _me_. An' just like your **father**.”

His hands flexed and Daken had to fight down the urge to simply murder both of them. He could have. It would be such an easy task because they’d never see it coming. Romulus had stopped punishing him personally decades ago, except for the special occasions of course. Instead he had been given to various handlers and he obeyed them like they were his Master. But it was not because he respected or feared them but because he understood that their methods were preferable to Romulus. The problem with killing them was that the price for it was not one he wanted to pay - Romulus would not just _punish_ him, he would make an example out of him for others who might consider disobedience.

“No, I ... I'm not -” Daken bit his tongue. There was no way he was going to give this loser the satisfaction of struggling for an explanation. The words did cut deep. Daken feared nothing more than being reduced to an animal. To instinct. To what he felt his father was.

**“Prove it!”**

The next hit drew blood and Daken closed his eyes once more. _Breathe. Stay calm. It’s just pain. You know pain. Pain is your friend, pain has never been the enemy._

~~~~~

It felt as if hours had passed. Daken was barely staying on his knees now and his breathing came in sharp little huffs. Victor never tired of this, he was just entirely unaffected. It was as if the dumb bastard had an endless pool of cruel delight to draw energy from while still not showing a single hint of actual enjoyment. But Kyle - Daken could smell arousal from him. Arousal, interest and joy. It made him want to throw up, the idea that his punishment would be jerk off material for a low life creature such as Wildchild.

“Tell him …” His voice sounded shaky and Daken hated himself for it, “Tell him that ... I've learned my lesson."

Kyle snorted, "No. You haven't. **Stay _away_ from your father.** " 

"But he -"

"Stay away -” The rope cut into his back again and the pain came so sudden that Daken could not stop himself from making a sound. “- from him until he's done doin' what our Master _**wants**_ him to do!"

The pain continued and Daken almost, just for a second, considered obeying. It would mean no more of this but it would also mean giving up on his revenge.. 

~~~~~

_“Stupid kid.”_

Daken woke up with a startled sound. Hands shaking, chest heaving, stomach a twisted knot of anxiety. It took him a second to orientate himself. Someone had moved him from the bloody floor to a bunk bed in the back of the train. How long ago he wasn’t sure. At some point the pain had overwhelmed him and he had apparently passed out. Daken remembered hearing a laugh as he drifted into the darkness.

_“Stupid kid.”_

That line. These words. They kept running through his mind on an endless loop. Like a broken record. It was not that they had any important significance themselves, it was about _who_ had said them.

Logan. Wolverine. His Father.

The only words that had come from Logan’s lips. The only words Daken had allowed him to get out. And they stuck like spit out gum to the sidewalk. Facing off against Logan had been different from how Daken always imagined it would be. Mostly because it had left him with a sense of dread rather than satisfaction. There was nothing in him that felt better after what had happened. The thrill of screaming at the man that had taken his mother from him had not lasted long. And the violence had left him hollow rather than pleased. They had fought, he had _easily_ dominated but there was no satisfaction to be gained from it.

It was like that moment at the bar all over again.

Logan was not what Daken wanted him to be. Not back then, not now. The tears had unsettled him. Why would the man that had wanted him dead before he had even been born cry at seeing him? And not frustrated tears either. No, Logan had smelled of regret and surprise and dread. 

_**Who**_ was his Father, as a person, really? Daken wanted answers. All his life he had wanted answers for questions he could not ask anyone. This though? He could find out the truth of this question. Perhaps he could even try to … _talk_ to this man. Wolverine was not capable of using pheromones to mask and change his own scent. Daken would know when he lied and that opened up a whole new world of possibilities. In theory.

With gritted teeth and the taste of blood still lingering on his tongue, Daken decided that for a chance at revenge, he was willing to take whatever beating Romulus ordered. Even if his Master himself would come to enact the punishment himself - it would be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much to say on this one. Just remember that comments are greatly appreciated and that they are the fuel that keeps us going.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daken meets with an old “friend” and for a short time he finds some sort of peace but like everything in his life, it doesn’t last. Romulus however couldn’t have asked for a more delightful outcome of his scheming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Additional Tags:**  
>  **Part 1:** Sexual Content, Pheromones, Dubious Consent, Self Exploitation, Self Harm, Self Worth Issues, Implied/Referenced Punishment, Age Difference, Conditioning  
>  **Part 2:** Rape, Conditioning, Punishment, Humiliation, Sexual Content, Orgasm Denial
> 
> [Visit Finnlay's Tumblr](https://sniktice.tumblr.com/)  
>  [Visit Nausi's Tumblr](https://nausiwindstrider.tumblr.com/)

**2006  
Italy, Florence**

Daken did not believe in anything. No Gods, no higher powers, no fate or destiny. No justice, no karma, no consequences. Just nothing. The only thing that mattered was whatever happened in the moment. And so he knew that the _gift_ that had been waiting for him as he came home was anything but. Romulus was testing him. Tempting him. Luring him.

And Daken did just what he knew he shouldn’t.

There had been hardly any words shared before he kissed Kim with all of the pent up frustration, desire, need and utter desperation of the last few weeks. It was almost criminal to soil whatever good there had been between them with this act but Daken was far, far past the point of caring for such things. Everything became soiled at some point. Innocence and purity were illusions of a society so obsessed with sex that each year, young girls, in particular, seemed to look less and less like little girls and more like miniature sized versions of their botox and silicon enhanced mothers. 

What did it matter if he ruined the one thing in his life that might possibly considered a real relationship? However brief it had been, he _had_ loved Kim in a way not tainted by pain and lust. Now though … now he was nothing more than a perfectly trained little bitch.

“Fuck me.” His voice was low and dark as he tugged on the belt, “Fuck me until I can’t think straight anymore.”

It hit Kim with the force of a hurricane. He’d never experienced anything like it and he was not young or inexperienced. Everything about Hiro felt erotically charged and was filled with pleasure. Their bodies still fit together, there was still a hunger in each of them. It was still forbidden. Kim found himself tugging on Hiro’s hair as his pants came off, no clear though in his mind save one; _I missed you Hiro._

There was impatience in every kiss and every tug of clothing. Daken was not sure how they managed to get naked, keep kissing, and move to the bedroom but it happened. As he shut the door behind them, he shed the last garment and then pulled Kim close again. “You’ve aged … mmh, hasn’t made you less attractive.”

Something about those words struck through to his heart. Kim put his hands on either side of Hiro’s face, gazed longingly into those steel blue eyes, and murmured fervently, “I never stopped thinking of you.”

“I stopped.” He sighed, admitting it with an annoyed expression, “What else was I to do? It would have driven me mad …” Turning his head he kissed Kim’s palm and then grabbed him by the back of the neck to kiss him properly again.

Though the words were sweet in a bitter sort of way it did not sit well with Kim. He kissed Hiro back, passion for passion, needy, and excited, but when they came up for air he searched his lover’s face, what he found was far more disquieting than the agelessness that had shocked him when Hiro knocked the tea cup out of his hand. “Hiro …”

“Yes?” He purred, nuzzling against Kim’s neck and pressing soft kisses to the smooth skin, “Tell me what you want me to do.”

_I want you to leave with me right now._ The words were nearly out of his mouth. It would mean his death. Kim had narrowly survived cuckolding the master previously. If now he tried to make off with the master’s favorite he would be killed. Still the words stuck in his throat and were very nearly spoken. In their place he uttered a heated, “Let me catch my breath.”

Daken _whined_ but he he did not protest. The kisses continued but he tried to be slower, gentler about it. Slow wasn’t what he wanted but that was the point - it was never about _him_. It shouldn’t be about him. Toys did not decide how they were played with.

With a firm hand Kim stroked Hiro’s back and tried to gather his thoughts. That was pointless though. His emotions were a blur of concern and lust. Though he had meant to ease them into speaking, Kim found himself moaning softly, as Hiro continued to lick and kiss over his sensitive skin. _< I need you. Beloved, I need you.  >_

It had been a long, long time since Daken heard Chinese spoken with that particular accent and it took him a second to translate in his head but then he moaned happily, “Yes, yes you do. Take me to bed, fuck me Kim, _please_.”

“I’m an old man.” Even as he said it Kim he pushed Daken down onto the bed and got between his thighs. 

“Middle aged.” It was a teasing correction as he laid back and spread his legs for Kim, “You’re not _old_. Master is old. I am _technically_ old.”

The casual mention of ‘master’ set his teeth on edge but Kim found he could not stay upset for more than a moment. The sight of Hiro, his body the same, the bold black lines of his tattoo unchanged, it made him feel young, it made him giddy. Kim leaned down to kiss over that gorgeous chest as his hands moved lower. 

_Finally._ “Yes, yes please …” Daken silenced himself with pulling Kim into a kiss and wondered why it had taken so much effort to get here. It should have been easier. Kim _liked_ him, desired him. The added pheromones should have made this quick and easy. After all, this was his only real purpose for existing. This and his exceptional skills as an assassin.

~~~~~~

Though it had been a long time since Kim bothered to coax his body into back to back rises Hiro had accomplished it easily. Every part of him sang of delight and shivered in over stimulation. His cock was almost too sensitive for the open air, but covering it with anything would have been agony. The anxious need had finally gone out of Hiro. They were laying in a tangle of sweaty, sticky, limbs, seemingly at peace. Somehow Kim knew it would only last a moment. Though it pained him to hasten the end of the fantasy he nuzzled against Hiro’s graceful chin and murmured, “I love you Hiro.”

It send a full body shiver through him and Daken felt that need rise again but this time it didn’t feel all consuming and undeniable. Instead he almost welcomed it and just let it be. “I know. I never forgot _that_.” _And I’ve been good. You are sated and happy. I filled my role_. With a little smile he cuddled close and kissed over Kim’s shoulder. “Wish Master had let me see you a few years back … then I wouldn’t have to wait for more.” It was more tease than complaint.

“Do you remember reading to each other?” Kim asked, his eyes only half open. “You tired me out then too, and we took turns reading your book of Japanese poems till we fell asleep.”

“I remember.” Smiling softly he shifted and reached into the drawer on his nightstand. The original copy had been lost years ago, burned by his Master as punishment for - Daken was not sure anymore. It didn't matter. He had bought himself another copy. “Close your eyes, I’ll read to you.”

After a few poems, Kim was totally relaxed, all the tension and worry gone. The sound of Hiro’s voice shaping the sounds of his native tongue were soothing to Kim’s soul. He could not have said why, but it was as true as the need for air in one’s lungs. In the silence between poems Kim spoke, “I missed this most of all, being close to you, the sound of you, this easiness. Even if we never made love again I would gladly spend the rest of my life with you, like this.”

“Shh, do not speak foolish words. You know that this is all there is.” Kissing the top of Kim’s head he went back to reading and tried to silence the voice in his head screaming that no one would ever really want him for more than sex. Daken _knew_. He did not need the reminders.

~~~~~~

It would not be long till either he was called away or Hiro simply didn’t come back. Kim was already wondering if he had Hiro at all. When they were young, some twenty two years before, they had played at love. There had been sex, over eager, clumsy sex. Kim had never been with a man before, and hardly at all with a woman due to his lack of interest. Hiro had been his first, and a very good teacher. The teasing had suited Kim’s disposition, challenging him to do better, to prove Hiro wrong, and to earn his admiration. More than that though there had been a deep tenderness that surprised and stunned both of them. Kim had been more than willing to take a firm hand during their pillow sport, but before and after each of them handled the other with an almost reverent joy and tenderness. Every stolen moment together had been priceless. Nights, afternoons, hands brushing, eyes meeting, all of it had been treasured. They’d found ways to stretch out their assignment. Ways to make progress without getting anywhere, ways to keep their handlers busy so that the pair of them could indulge. That had lasted a blissfully long, and heartbreakingly short time.

Kim could remember coming back to their secret apartment to find it trashed, filled with angry agents, and empty of Hiro. Kim had been ready to die for love then, but he had lived. His instinct for self preservation had somehow managed to guide him through the maze of consequences. It had all lead him back here, to the man who had shaped his life without meaning to. Kim was not sure Hiro was alive inside Daken’s breast. He saw hints of the young man he had loved, but they were scarce and quickly hid themselves. Every moment of freedom they found was filled with sex. Amazing sex. Incredible, hot, intensely pleasurable sex. But Kim was not satisfied. They had completed their assignment in record time, and soon they would part ways, and almost nothing of consequence had transpired. 

That was why he was laying atop Hiro, refusing to indulge in the seductively pleasant quiet of afterglow. His thighs were still twitching, but he stubbornly forced his mind to focus and held Hiro in place by the wrists, knowing full well he might lose his hands for the audacity of what he was about to say, “Come away with me.”

His body was still singing with pleasure and his mind was wonderfully slow. Kim had more than lived up to memories in these past six days. No one had pulled him apart and put him together with _just_ sex in decades. These days it usually took a concerning amount of pain to go with the pleasure for anything to feel good at all. Not with Kim. 

“Yes.” The word came without thought but the second he had said it, all color drained from his face and Daken went slack with sheer terror. “N-no, no no! No! I meant no, I would never -”

“You would never what? Defy him? I’ve heard rumors of times you have.” Kim shook his head and tried to fight back the deep empathy of fear that rose up in him. He knew it was as much his own aching heart as any of Hiro’s gifts. “Romulus is killing you. He’s using you Hiro. You are more than a toy. You are a brilliant man, gifted, clever, wicked, and charming. You are so much more than this!”

“No!” Daken glared but it lacked fire, “No, he loves me. He loves me! I’m his heir, I _matter_!” 

“You matter because you are Akihiro!” Kim shot back. “You matter because you have a heart and a soul. You have thoughts and feelings. I love you too much to lose you again without a fight!” Kim held tight to Hiro’s wrists, desperation in his voice, “I know I have already lost but I will not be silent and demure!”

For a terrifying second Daken thought of how easy it would be to kill Kim for saying these things. How proud his Master would if he did. Then Daken snapped out of that and instead switched their positions with one fluid, effortless motion. “You are a fool, Kim. If you have not learned in these last few days that I am no longer the man you once knew, then you aren’t who I thought you were either.” He looked down into amber colored eyes and said, almost sounding defeated, “I am nothing, Kim. Nothing. He is all that gives me reason and purpose.” Pulling away he got out of the bed and began to collect the abandoned clothing on the floor.

“I have seen it.” Kim sat up and watched Hiro move, watched him prepare to leave. It hurt, but he did not regret his words, not in the least. “You are right, I am not a fool. Still, I see him, the man who swore his heart to me, in there amid the darkness of Daken. No one can change what you are but you Hiro. Romulus, deposed shadow god of the criminal underworld, cannot change what you are. Nor does he love you, and you know it.”

“Forty nine years.” Daken looked back at Kim a bitter smile on these full lips, "You weren't even born when he had me first. Everything, everyone, has a breaking point. Do not fool yourself which such nonsense." Closing the belt he slid his shirt on and then turned away from Kim, "Lock the door when you leave. And Kim ... don't ever come back."

“Even if you’ve been broken, you can heal.” He got up from the bed, nude and vulnerable, to touch Hiro one last time, “I accept your choice, and my heart is unchanged.”

Slapping the hand away he said between gritted teeth, “You’re lucky I have nostalgia for you but you better get back wherever you came from and _work._ I will not tell _him_ what you dared to suggest but he will know because he _knows everything_.”

“Is this the last memory you want of me?” Kim arched a brow, undaunted by the slap. If Hiro had wanted to hurt him he would have pulled away a bloody stump. This was posturing and fear. “I will respect your choice. I will not come after you. I will be the dutiful servant and honor my debt.” There was a brief pause as Kim accepted the future of service he had been so willing to leave behind only a moment before, “But is this the way you want to remember us?”

Closing his eyes for a second he breathed in deeply and then turned. Both hands cupped Kim’s face as he kissed him, desperate and needy but without that fire from before. It only lasted a brief moment. “I’m sorry.” Pushing away he left the room and headed straight out of the apartment.

* * *

**2006  
Japan, Kanagawa Prefecture, Hakone**

Romulus had chosen the place for this meeting carefully. Japan was not a location he used often with Daken, but it was an effective setting. So much so that using it sparingly was important. Now was the time to take advantage of such tools. Daken was acting out, yet again. It seemed to happen about once every decade. Not quite like clockwork, but still highly regular. It was proof of the boy’s strong spirit, a thing Romulus prized, but it was also troublesome and time consuming. 

When Daken entered the tea room he had to get down on his hands and knees to enter through the _nijiriguchi_. It was no surprise that the difficult motions looked elegant. Romulus waited at the low table in the center of the room near the brazer built into the floor. This was a four and a half matt _chashitsu_ room that he was using as his reception hall. The servants and the tea master did not question this. Romulus had dressed himself in an approximation of traditional garb. Enough so that he seemed to fit in with the surroundings. “Come boy, kneel.” Romulus pointed to the spot across him from himself almost lazily. 

Daken did as he was bid while his heart threatened to burst out of his chest with the way it was racing. It had taken a day to get into contact with his Master and then two more until Romulus ordered him to Japan. Seventy two long, anxiety inducing hours where he had too much time to contemplate his disobedience. Now Daken wanted nothing more than to be punished for what he had dared to do.

“You smell disgusting.” Romulus turned up his nose and sighed. Inwardly he delighted in the fragrance of Daken’s shame, fear, and despair, in the knowledge that the boy had already begun the process of punishment. Soon the rebellion would fade and he would be left with his intelligent and willing tool. “I am very busy boy. Say what you came here to say.”

Bowing forward he pressed his forehead to the ground and said in a shaky tone, “I disobeyed, Master. I am so sorry.”

The sight was more than pleasing. Romulus licked his lips while Daken’s eyes were averted and drank in the moment. He let the silence stretched on, knowing that the anticipation was eating the boy alive inside. “You disobeyed, again. Tell me, mongrel, how you failed me.”

“I -” Daken breathed in deeply and then said, “I had sex with the one person I am forbidden to sleep with. And I … I went after my father even though I know that I shouldn't.”

“I have punished you already for the latter.” Romulus shifted and regarded the kneeling boy cooly. “The former is a mistake you made two decades ago. Now you make it again when the peasant is not even young and beautiful. I must ask myself, why? He could not have forced himself on you. Did he coerce you? Does this filthy human have some leverage over you?”

“No Master. I … I was -” He tensed and then admitted, “Shaken, confused, desperate. It was my own fault for going near Wolverine. This is no excuse for my actions.”

That explanation mollified Romulus to a certain degree. There was the chance that Daken earnestly loved the aging operative. If that were the case Romulus already knew how to solve that issue. The same as he had solved others in fact. He would order Daken to kill him. He looked at his tool with narrowed eyes, “Are you expecting me to believe you disobeyed me because you had previously disobeyed me? That one act led to another? Are you that undisciplined boy?”

“Yes.” Daken sounded utterly frustrated with himself, “Yes, Master. I do not know why I've failed like this after all the effort you have put into training me but I … it seemed so _easy_ to just act and not think. Not care. He was there and I just took advantage. I don't know if he even wanted me … I used my gift _heavily._ ”

It was possible that the act had been nothing but rebelion. It was possible that ‘Kim’ wouldn’t have disobeyed if not for Daken’s manipulations. In fact if Daken had manipulated the situation, if it could be thought of as force, the situation would have turned out even better than Romulus had planned. It was one thing for him to make Daken kill the operative, it was another thing for Daken to know he had raped the only person to have ever loved him. 

“You forced him?” Romulus cocked his head, “Is that what you are telling me Daken? You raped my servant and forced him to disobey me?”

_No no no no! Never. I will never -_ “Yes.” He gritted his teeth, “Yes Master.”

“There are no words to express how disgusted and disappointed I am in you.” It was difficult for Romulus to act the part. This was an outcome so perfect he had not even planned for it. The idea that Daken’s morality had taken such a hit, that he had hurt himself, and ruined something so precious to him, was delectable. There was such pain in the boy, sorrow, and shame. Romulus reached across the tabled and let his claws open Daken’s face, from temple to jaw in a curved diagonal series of red lines. 

It was burning hot pain. Daken gasped but he did not do so much as flinch. _I didn't rape him. He wanted … but it took so much effort at first …_ Daken pushed the thought aside. “I'm sorry, Master. I lost myself in the disobedience, thinking I could … _feel better_ that way. It was weakness and the thought of a fool.”

“A man is a fool, a child can be a fool, but you are beneath that.” Romulus shook his head and looked at Daken scornfully. “Your little name is fitting. You are a dirty mutt. Worth less than the woman who was killed for carrying you.”

It hurt more than physical pain ever could. Daken lowered his head and looked down silently.

There was an intense rush as the shame and emotional pain settled into Daken’s soul. Romulus stood up and walked around the table. “Someday you will learn that there is nothing for you but service. Someday you will stop failing me.” Romulus took a deep breath and reveled in the scent. He was righteously furious, and Daken was reacting perfectly. He had been made for this, molded, shaped, and fired til he was a perfect vessel, made to hold _this_. Romulus reached down, grabbed the boy around the waist, and then threw him against the tatami matted floor. There was blood, and there would be a great deal more before he was through.

~~~~~~

Daken could not beg. He could not speak. There was a gag between his lips and while noise would make it past, words could not. Master had stripped him bare, restrained and gagged him, talking about his failure all the while and how he wanted to hear no apologies. No begging, no confessions of love and need. Master was _**angry** _ with him.

Claws dug into his hips when Master reached for them to get better leverage to thrust as Daken’s body attempted to knit together what had been torn too much. His body was alight with pain and pleasure, mind filled with a million apologies and unvoiced attempts to explain himself. The small shift of being moved to allow deeper penetration was enough to make him break silence and cry out, cock dripping and throbbing.

“No.” Romulus growled lowly and slapped that needy cock hard, “No. You will _**not**_ come boy. You are not allowed to. You will _obey!_ ”

_Please Master, please please please - I’ll be good, I’ll be good! I love you, I love you, I love you -_

~~~~~~

Daken lied on the bed, motionless except for the rise and fall of his chest, covered in his own blood and his Master’s cum. It had been almost thirty minutes, every second of it counted down inside his own head, and Master had not once looked at him or spoken. Not since he decided he was done using Daken. There was nothing that sat worse with him than being ignored by his Master but Daken knew he had earned the punishment. Pain did near nothing to him these days and Master was no fool. He knew.

“Daken.”

The way Master said his name turned his stomach in fear and disgust within him, but at least there was talking now. Without hesitation he looked over at his Master, showing he was paying attention. _I can be good. I can make it up to you Master. Please don’t leave me._

"Tell me again why you needed to be disciplined, Daken."

“I disobeyed, Master. I had a mission and instead of putting my sole focus on it, I - … I let someone fuck me.” A raised brow made him lick his lips and correct himself, “I _forced_ the forbidden one to fuck me.”

Romulus nodded and reached out to gently stroke one of Daken’s cheeks, “That is correct, my boy. Do you understand why such behavior has to be corrected?”

“I am to be your heir. I have to be fit for the position. I cannot act like an animal.”

“ _Are_ you an animal, Daken?”

“No, Master.”

The soothing touch turned into a painful grip on his hair and Romulus dragged him close, “Then why do you act like one? Why do you force me to correct you, boy? I loath to hurt you. All I desire, all I have ever wanted, is to give train you, praise you.”

< _I am sorry Master. I am sorry. I am sorry. Please Master, please. I cannot - I need you. Master, Master I love you, please - >_

A satisfied looked settled on Romulus’ face and he nodded slowly, “Of course you do, boy.”

The touch turned gentle again and then he felt Romulus other hand run down his body. Along the chest, over his stomach and -

“Please!” It was a desperate moan. Master was stroking him. It felt so good. So good. Daken had not been allowed to come. A punishment was a punishment but he needed this badly. More than air.

“Hush, boy. I will always take care of you.”

Daken whimpered and squirmed. The strokes were light and slow. It was not enough. It was not enough! _Hurt me, hurt me - I need to hurt, Master please please ..._

“You will come like this boy or you will not come at all.”

Another whimper and then he was panting and trying to focus on the touch which wasn’t enough but was all he deserved. It did not take long after he accepted that but the orgasm barely felt like one. It was nothing like what Kim had coaxed from him -

_No, no, no! Stop. Stop thinking of him. Master. You belong to Master. You are his. You want to be his. You love him. You love him -_

Sobbing he clung to Romulus and whispered desperately, “Sorry, ‘m sorry. So sorry Master, please … forgive me Master Please. I love you.”

“Shh, hush.” These strong arms wrapped around him and Daken cried harder as he was held and his hair was stroked. 

_Master. Master will_ always _take care of me. **Always.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author Note:** Hello readers, Nausi here. This is a very dark chapter but an important moment in Daken’s life. It marks a turning point, a beginning of the end of an era. There are also bits of foreshadow here, hints at what Finn and I personally headcanon. It would be interesting to see what bits and pieces stand out to you, and what you think I’m referring to. 
> 
> This chapter shows a very painful part of the abuse cycle. I want to remind anyone reading who is themselves, or knows someone who is trapped in an abusive relationship that it is not their fault. There are resources available to you, they vary by location, but if you are online reading this then you can also use google to find hotlines, shelters, food banks, and other resources. Please remember that you deserve to be safe. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


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